Where Is the Love?
by IceQueenMirrorQueen
Summary: A nation decides that he has something to prove. And America is just the person to help him. Warning: Yaoi. Pairrings: OCxAmerica; unrequited OCxOC, and various other pairings.
1. A Confusing Prelude

**Author's Note: **Hello~!

First time writer, so bear with me please~!

If you don't like OCs or yaoi, don't complain if you decide to read this fic.

Given an M rating just 'cuz I'm being ultra-cautious. May or may not eventually add chapters worth that rating. Only time will tell.

Criticism is very welcome. Enjoy!

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><p><em>The silence grew unbearably tense as the words settled<em>

"_Didn't know you had a sense of humor." They words sounded too breathless and quiet to be coming from his mouth._

_Dark eyes flashed in annoyance. "This isn't a joke."_

"_Good, 'cuz that wasn't very funny."_

"_Just…agh!"He threw his hands in the air, exasperated at where the conversation was going. This wasn't how he had planned it. "Just answer the damn question!"_

_The man who stood over him shook his head. This was something out of a nightmare. "Have you been drinking tonight?"_

"_I'm not drunk!"_

_He had to be in order to spout such nonsense. "Don't worry! Let's forget what you just said and if you're lucky, maybe I won't tell the others at the next meeting. Haha-"_

"_ALFRED! Will you be serious for once in your goddamn life?"_

_He stopped his laugh and stared back at the other man. His companion had stood up at the exclamation, looking a bit more imposing in his request._

"…_you really mean that, don't you?"_

_A frustrated sigh. "Yes."_

_Alfred looked away from the glare. "Why me? I mean, we're not best buds or anything, and I'm pretty sure you can find someone else to-"_

"_Because you're the most idealistic person I could think of who would agree to this."_

_Straight to the point. Alfred wasn't sure if he should feel flattered by the curt response. He was thinking too much again._

"_Just answer the question."_

_Alfred frowned. This went against everything they had been taught. It wouldn't end well._

"_Please?"_

_Alfred hesitated. The plea had a hint of desperation to it. And heroes did not abandon the desperate._

"_Yes."_


	2. Order in the Conference Room!

**Author's Note:** Congratulations for actually tolerating the horrendous prologue! :D

Now, on to the plot!

Disclaimer: Neither Hetalia nor its characters belong to me. The poorly written OCs, however, do.

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><p>"<em>Love your enemies."<em>

"What the hell were you thinking?" England yelled for the umpteenth time that morning. His face had long since turned a furious red.

America paid no heed to the words. This was nothing out of the ordinary; England would eventually wear himself out screaming…maybe.

Exhaustion was threatening to overtake them. The meeting had been called at the last minute and the few nations who had managed to arrive on time were suffering from jetlag, and England's hissy fit wasn't making things any better.

Germany cleared his throat loudly, trying to catch their attention. It would be best to stop this before it escalated into a fist-fight.

England, who had stood up in his rage, sat back down. He shouldn't be losing his composure so quickly. He was a gentleman, damn it! He turned his attention back to his original targets. "I suppose it was my mistake to assume that even an idiot of your standard would have enough sense not to readily jump into such things without some consideration," he growled.

America pouted. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"What you did was that you ignored the proper rules of politics. Perhaps among our leaders this could be overlooked every now and then, but not with us. I could expect this negligence from you, America,"-he turned his gaze to the side- "but not you, Mexico."

The latter stood next to America, staring blankly at the wall in the back of the room. He sighed at the mention of his name. "I really don't see what the problem here is, Mister Inglaterra."

"The problem here," Germany interjected, still hoping to control the situation. "Is that we all agreed to discuss the formation of alliances with non-participating parties, or at the very least notify them. You did neither." He stared at the two offenders, standing next to each other at the front of the room. "You need to consider how your current allies would react to this. It is not considered official if two nations simply run off and make such decisions while drunk at a party."

England nodded fervently, grateful to have the level-headed German on his side. "Irresponsible, the both of you! This needs to be discussed in a meeting room and documented, and no, America, writing down the terms and agreements on your bedmate's body while they sleep does not count as documenting it!"

America grinned.

Mexico raised his hands to the back of his head. "I don't see what we did that was so irresponsible. And in my defense, I was not drunk. I knew very well what I was doing."

"You have not been absent from enough meetings to remain ignorant of these rules, Mexico. I seem to recall the two of you already having an alliance," England growled. "Or have you two neglected to tell us of the end of your 'NAFTA' as well?"

Mexico started at this. "Oh! No, Mister Inglaterra, I don't think you understand. There is no new alliance between Mexico and America."

"Oh?" England frowned. He was sure he hadn't misheard the news. It had said that there was a new union between-

"It's the marriage between Alejandro Diaz and Alfred Jones."

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><p>AN #2: Yeps. That's my OC's name. If he starts acting too much like a Mary Sue/Gary Stu, don't hesitate to tell me so.

Criticism is heavily encouraged. After all, it's the best way to improve, right?

Please & thank you~!


	3. Unholy Union

**AN:** 3 chapters in one day! I seem to enjoy torturing the unfortunate readers out there! XD

Now on to the horror show! *Sadly, no horror here. Not the good kind, at least.*

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. Poorly written OCs are mine, though.

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><p>England's facial expressions were rather entertaining to watch, Mexico noticed with amusement. Confusion, shock, and outright horror were evident as the meaning of the words set in.<p>

Three…two…on-

"WHAAAAT!" Huh. England had reacted faster than he had expected.

The yell had startled the rest of the drowsy nations, who were quick to catch on to the tense mood.

Mexico felt a smile tugging at his lips. Ah, sweet chaos.

"What?" England practically threw himself over the table. He stumbled up to America, gripping him by the shoulders. "What?"

America grinned at the attention. "Yep!" He extricated himself from England's grip and wrapped both arms around one of Mexico's. "He's my new hubby!"

England gaped. "What?" Perhaps they had broken England. He couldn't seem to say anything else.

"Oh my. What brought this on?" France commented. "To think the two of you would be so cruel as to not invite the country of love to your wedding! Onii-san is hurt!" He cried in mock pain. On the inside, France was glad to have not decided to skip this meeting. This was turning out to be quite an entertaining morning. He could see Japan preparing his camera and the look on Hungary's face was nothing short of being absolutely predatory.

"No wedding. We just went to the courthouse," Mexico replied nonchalantly. He didn't bother to pull his arm from America's hold. It would look better for both of them.

"Vee, congratulations!" Italy called out from the front row. "We're so happy for you, aren't we, _frate_-"

"Don't drag me into this, bastard!" Romano spat out. "That was a stupid thing to do and only an idiot would support them!"

"Oh, Mexico~! Oyabun is so happy for you! Come give boss a hug!" Spain held out his arms towards his former colony.

"No thank you."

"Why would you do this?" England seemed to have regained his vocabulary.

"Why else?" Mexico countered. "_Por el amor_." Pure lies.

The collective "aww" from some of their audience was a good sign.

England was fuming by this point. "America, I need to speak to you."

"Sure!"

"…in private. _Now_."

"Okay!" He beamed at Mexico. "Be right back!"

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><p>England led him down the hall to another conference room. He stuck his head in, checking to see that it was empty before pulling America in after him.<p>

"America, what the hell do you think you are doing?" he whispered angrily.

"Talking to you."

England resisted the urge to smack America on the head. "I meant, what are you doing with Mexico?"

"Didn't you hear? We got married! Which means," America leaned against England's shoulder. "You owe me a wedding present!"

"This is serious, America!" He shoved the younger boy away. "What on earth possessed you to do this?"

America shrugged. "Well, he asked and I didn't really see any reason to say no."

"How could you not find a reason to decline his offer? Have you forgotten that this man utterly despises you?"

"He hates everybody," America said in a matter-of-fact tone.

England sputtered. "That man is up to something, America, and if it involves you, then it can't be good." He put a hand on one of America's shoulders again. "Take my advice: get out of this arrangement before it's too late."

A thoughtful look set onto America's face before it was replaced by a smile. "You're getting paranoid again, old man! Mexico's not planning anything." He shrugged off England's hand and made his way to the door. "And even if he was, there's no way he could ever hurt the hero," he added as an afterthought. Just like that, he was gone.

England stared at the door as another one of his trademark frowns set on his face. America was still too naïve for his own good.

If he wasn't going to do anything about this, then England would.

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><p>AN: <em>The drama! The poorly written drama!<em>

Thankies for reading if you made it this far~!

NOW GO CRITICIZE THE HELL OUT OF THIS! *laughs maniacally before passing out*


	4. Of Hair Trigger Tempers

**A/N:** ...did anyone else notice that I misspelled the word "pairings" in the summary? XD

A little more of the backstory is coming to light. And more focus on the crappy OC.

...I'll stop my rambling now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters, but I do own the OCs! *shot*

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><p>Mexico stared at the door as the two blonde men disappeared behind it.<p>

Speaking of blondes…

He felt France's gaze on him. (When you were constantly in danger of being molested by the man, you either had to learn to tell when the man was near or suffer the consequences. And suffer you would.)

"So, _mon cher_," France's face split into a predatory grin. "Just what is going on, really?"

Mexico glowered. "Why do you assume that I am not honest in my intentions?"

France leaned back into his seat, utterly relaxed in spite of the other man's slowly growing irritation. "You are not the type of man who makes such-" he waved his hand in the air, searching for the word. "-_unpredictable_ decisions. That is dear _Amerique's_ job, no?"

"I assure you, _Francia_," the name came out in a dry and venomous tone. "I have thought this through carefully."

France now leaned forward, resting his head on his hands. "Then tell us, _mon ami_, what has caused you to tie yourself down to him of all people?" His eyes glimmered. "Has _Amerique_ struck oil on his land? Has there been an improvement in his economy?"

Mexico snorted. "No. He's as poor as ever."

"Then why go running to such a boorish man?" France let out a dramatic gasp. "Have you grown so tired of my company that you would lower yourself to such lengths for excitement? For shame!"

"He'd have to actually enjoy your company before he can get tired of it!" Prussia cackled from the back row.

"Exactly."

"Now, if it were the awesome me, on the other hand-"

"America has nothing that I want." …Well, maybe the kids, but that wasn't the issue here. _Madre de Dios_, he was getting a migraine.

"Did he threaten you?" Romano sneered. Provoking Mexico was always a fun pastime, at least as long as he had a shield available.

"He threatened you?" Spain ran up to Mexico and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "_No te preocupes, tomatito!_ _España_ will take care of it!"

Mexico struggled to escape the Spaniard's grip. "There were no threats, damn it!" He slipped out from under the chokehold and stepped back. "Why is it so hard to accept that I chose to marry America for love?"

More silence. France shook his head, his long blonde locks shifting along. "Oh, _mon cher_. Not this again."

Spain gave a sad smile. "Oh, Mexico…" There he went, using that stupid tone he used to speak to children. "Mexico, we've talked about this before-"

"Then you already know what I'll say!"

"_Mon cher_," France took on the same placating tone in his voice. "This obsession of yours has gotten out of hand. You've been so stressed lately, you must not be thinking clearly."

Mexico pouted and crossed his arms. "I'm not obsessed, I'm not stressed and my thinking's just fine!"

"He didn't mean it like that, Mexi," Spain began. "But you need to listen to Oyabun and try to understand that this kind of marriage isn't healthy for you."

"Yes, because marrying for politics and sex is so much better!"

Spain was persistent. Maybe his argument sounded too strict. He could try again. "_Mi querido Méxi_-"

"_Che palle, Spagna_! If he wants to fuck up his life, then let him!"

"Oh, you do care, Lovi~!" Spain crooned. "Well, if you want to go ahead with this, then Boss won't stop you. But did you really have to pick America? I mean, why not Brazil? She's so cute and pretty, and you two looked so happy together when you-"

"_Cállate el osico, España!_"

Another tense silence descended in the meeting room. The observers who had been wise enough to stay out of the confrontation held their breaths.

The happy-go-lucky expression on Spain's face didn't disappear, though the smile looked a bit more forced at the moment.

A nervous cough broke the spell.

Germany collected his folders from the front desk. "Meeting adjourned."

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><p>AN: What is Mexi up to? What exactly did he and America agree to? Will England solve the mystery? _HAS SPAIN RAISED AN ARMY OF TSUNDERES?_ DX

We'll find out...in some other chapter...


	5. Rethinking the Situation

**A/N:** I'm back with another poor attempt at writing~!

To those who reviewed, faved, & even bothered to look at this fic, I give you my thanks! *hugs all of you*

Little extra: The name of this fic comes from a song from Black Eyed Peas. Feel free to check it out! It's a pretty nice song.

I should warn you, though, that a lot of this fic will focus on OC!Mexico, as while we have a general idea of what the Hetalia characters are like, we don't know much about why he's doing what he's doing & that's kind of important in this fic.

Beware of OCs, strong language (oh my~!), possible OOC-ness, & yaoi.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. I only own the OCs in this fic.

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><p>"<em>Love will not serve those who do not live for her, and in her, and to whom she is not the breath of life." - Jennette Lee<em>

…all right, so maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought.

Mexico sighed, leaning back in his seat. A small, round table sat in front of him, hardly big enough for a family of four. It took up much of the remaining space in the quaint kitchen, something he found odd considering it was situated in a two-story house that almost bordered on being extravagant.

No, not extravagant. He searched his mind for a fitting description. It was…not a simple dwelling.

When he first arrived, he had been surprised at the implication that America was capable of maintaining a rather elegant home. Considering what the other nation was like, he should've known from the start that it wasn't America's (Alfred's, he amended) home; it was Texas's.

_Where is the little guy, anyway?_ He hadn't seen the boy in so many years.

Ame-_Alfred_, he scolded himself again- had laughed at the question. _He said he didn't want to see your ugly face again, so he moved back into his old apartment!_

Cute kid. Mexico made a mental note to himself to bring a belt with him next time he saw Texas; that ought to bring up some unwelcome memories.

He was off topic again. Mexico pulled out the small list that had found a home in his pocket. The edges were worn down from being handled too often. He tapped his pen against the tabletop.

This wasn't going as planned and he was at a loss to see why. When you thought things through logically, there weren't supposed to be problems, right? He looked down at his scratchy handwriting.

_Step #1: Find willing accomplice._

All right, that had been simple enough…kind of.

…well, someone eventually agreed and that was all that mattered, right?

_Step #2: Get married._

Done and done.

_Step #3: Make marriage last long enough to rub it in _Spain's France's the European nations' ___ everyone else's faces._

That part would come soon enough.

He reread the list. It was a painfully simplified plan that he had given a lot of thought to. And he had picked the perfect partner, hadn't he? America was a man of his word. Or rather, _Alfred_ was a man of his word. So long as they kept politics out of the bedroom, he could expect the younger man to be faithful.

As expected, extracting the promise from Alfred required compromise from both sides. There was the more obvious "no business in bed" deal; they could avoid provoking each other that way.

Then, there was the issue of their living arrangements. A married couple had to live together, but whose house would they live in? Alfred declared his home to be the safer and the "cooler" of the two. This made Mexico uneasy, as whenever one nation was forced by circumstance to move into another's home it was usually the result of conquest. Nevertheless, he gave in, so long as they were near the border; that way, he could continue to watch over his people.

Lastly, there was the much avoided topic of the actual bedroom and any relevant "activities". There really was no problem there, though, as neither of them was all too eager about that. It wasn't like they hadn't slept with each other before; there was simply no emotional connection between them beyond petty hatred. Even the term "fuck buddies" suggested more intimacy than they would ever have.

No sex. Mexico mused at the implication for a bit. If all turned out as planned, then he could stand to be celibate for the time being. His impending victory would be all the more sweet.

It wouldn't be all too difficult to keep his hands off the blonde anyway; that man was nothing more than a huge turnoff. He was overly concerned about his weight, constantly bragged about his superiority, and couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it…good lord, married for less than a week and already Alfred was a middle-aged housewife! How long before he turned into a lazy, balding man with a beer belly? Mexico took a quick downward glance at himself: long, twiggy legs supporting a figure bordering on emaciation…eh, he had a better chance of coming out of this unscathed than Alfred did. The image of Alfred as a housewife flitted through his mind for a second and he couldn't fight back an amused grin. The very concept of Alfred in a dress was all too unappealing.

"Hey Alex, you look like France when you smile!"

Mexico's momentary happiness vanished into thin air. "My name is not Alex, it is _Alejandro_. Say it correctly or don't say it at all."

"Whatever! Your stuff's outside. I'm not gonna carry it in." Alfred turned away from the doorway and made his way towards the staircase. He paused at the bottom step before looking back. "By the way, I almost forgot! You're sleeping on the couch." Alfred practically skipped up the steps towards his bedroom on the second floor.

It was all Mexico could do to remind himself that suffocating Alfred in his sleep would nullify the marriage.

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><p>AN: Mexico's enemies have learned to avoid angering him lest they end up at the mercy of the dreaded belt! :3

If it's not too much trouble, I think I'll need a little advice later on, but for now:

Has New Zealand's gender been confirmed yet? Or is that still up for speculation from the Hetalia fans? (I could just Google this, but...eh.)

Criticism encouraged!

Thanks for reading~!


	6. Movie Night

**Author's Note:** The website won't let me add more than one exclamation point at the end of a sentence. Or add one after a question mark...This sucks. T-T

In this chapter, we begin to explore the deep subconscious of a certain OC that I'm sure many of you don't care much for.

The italicized parts are supposed to be Mexico's memories. They are supposed to be ambiguous, so don't worry if you have absolutely no idea what the hell they're supposed to mean.

I apologize for any mistakes I have made in the previous chapters (and trust me, there's _a lot_ of those) or any that I may make in future chapters. My spelling/grammar skills got shot to hell along with the rest of my life in senior year in high school. XD

Warning: Bad plot, crappy OC, possible OOC, grammar problems, weirdness in general, and some Spanish. (Translations at the bottom!)

Disclaimer: I can assure you that if I owned Hetalia, there would be _way_ more yaoi (and not just implied yaoi either)! I do own this particular OC!Mexico. That has to count for something, right?

*shot*

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><p><em>España had said that he was taking him back to his own home, but business had forced him to leave his newfound colony in the care of his soldiers.<em>

_He couldn't stop trembling. Unlike España, they weren't afraid to rough him up and did so at the slightest provocation. After the last round, they shoved him into the largest tent in their makeshift settlement. _

_The leader's, he realized. And he was not alone. _

_Crowded against the farthest side of the tent was a group of women. So young, barely even adults yet. They all shared the same mask of confusion and terror. _

_Except for one._

_She sat a bit farther away from the other girls. Instead of fear, she wore an expression of tranquility, eyes closed as though she were lost in slumber. She must've been quite a brave woman if she could stay so composed in such a situation. _

_He scooted closer to her. "Hello."_

_She didn't acknowledge his presence._

"_Are you alright?"_

_Still no response._

"_Are you afraid?" Her eyes opened. She regarded him for a moment, waiting for him to continue._

"_I am."_

_A smile tugged at her lips. "There's no reason to be afraid." Her voice was soft with an underlying tone of amusement. "They need us more than we need them."_

_He grinned back. This woman was quite odd._

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><p>If there was any real truth to Alfred's constant declarations of being a hero, it was that he could exhaust his enemies to death.<p>

He was currently taking up most of the space on the couch (_his_ bed, he might add). Mexico had hoped that his current occupancy in the room would be enough to ward off the other man, but he was clearly mistaken. When he told Alfred to leave so he could sleep, Alfred had shushed him, claiming that it was his house and he wanted to watch the horror movie marathon. No argument of this actually being his son's house ("So? It's on my side of the border!") or that he was tired ("'Cuz you're such an old man! Hahaha!") would get him to leave. He sure as hell wasn't going to sleep in Alfred's room, so resigned himself to a long and sleepless night.

In truth, the night would've been rather enjoyable. The movies really amped up his almost dead (ha!) Halloween spirit, the special effects were so overrated that they were comedic, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the sight of Alfred cowering in fear behind a pillow. However, it was particularly tiring to have the trembling American latch onto him at random intervals and scream into his ear. He'd be deaf by the end of the night.

Thankfully due to false advertising, the marathon wasn't really a marathon and when it finally ended, Mexico had to use all his strength to pry the scared boy off of him.

"Whew! That was fun, wasn't it?" Alfred let out a nervous chuckle as he turned off the television. His skin was rather pale and he was still trembling a bit.

"Hmm." Idiot. Mexico stretched his arms out, trying to get his circulation flowing to rid himself of the numbing, prickling sensation that had taken hold of them for the past few hours. "Go to bed." He reached down beneath the couch to pull out the comforter.

"W-Wait, you're not gonna make me leave, are ya?" Mexico stared at him. "I mean, I just figured you might be spooked from all those movies and you wouldn't want to be all alone at night." Another uneasy laugh.

…oh, this was good.

Mexico straightened up a bit before composing himself languidly in his seat. "Oh, thank you for your concern, Alfred, but I'll have to decline your offer. Those movies weren't the least bit scary. I've heard much more terrifying stories before." He shrugged. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear them. You might get scared."

He could almost feel Alfred's frown. "Heroes aren't scared of anything." He sat back down on the couch, arms crossed in defiance.

Stupid boy. He looked the boy in the eye. "Tell me, Alfred. Have you ever heard of _La Llorona_?"

Alfred shook his head.

"I believe in your language she's called 'the Weeping Woman.'"

He scoffed. "What's so scary about some crying lady?"

Mexico couldn't stop a sadistic smile from forming. "Legend says that she was a beautiful woman when she was alive. She married the man of her dreams and they had two children. Some say her husband eventually lost interest in her and would leave her alone with the children for long periods of time. Others say he began having an affair and that he only returned to see his beloved children before he would depart again. Either way, she began to envy the attention and love her children received while she went ignored." He paused to look at his listener, who had an entranced look on his face. "So one day, she took the children out to a nearby stream to give them a bath. When they got into the water, she pushed their heads below the surface of the water and kept them there until they stopped breathing. When her husband came back, he was horrified at what she had done and he left her for good. In her grief, she drowned herself in the same stream where she killed her children. Because of her cruel deeds, she remains trapped in our world. Every night, she haunts the streams, crying out for her children. They say she appears when the sun goes down. Her victims are usually children, but she'll attack anyone who gets in her way. They say that just before she gets you, you hear her horrifying screams of rage and anguish. Then, she takes your soul to the depths of hell once she realizes you are not either of her dead children."

Alfred had been steadily leaning forward throughout the story and was now close enough for Mexico to see the fear in his eyes.

Time to wrap up the story. "_España_ told us, back when we were still his colonies, that she only roamed his rivers, but we knew better. Even now, we can still feel her wandering in our land. We can sense when she takes our people. Her spirit isn't tied down to one river. She'll search every river in the world to get what she wants." He raised his hand, gripping Alfred's chin and pulling him close enough that their lips were almost touching. "Say, Alfred…" Hot breath ghosted over trembling lips. "Isn't there a river nearby?"

At the words, Alfred broke out of his trance and shook his head. "That's a stupid story!" The fear in his voice was poorly disguised. Alfred jumped to his feet and made his way to the stairs.

"Sleep tight, _querido_~!" Mexico called out. He fixed the blanket before settling under them. He was going to sleep well tonight.

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><p>Alfred wasn't shaking from fear. His room was just unnaturally drafty tonight and his blankets were way too thin.<p>

The story was so stupid. His movies were way scarier…not that he was afraid of them or anything because he was a hero and fear was so not cool. Mexico was just being a creeper again.

Alfred jumped a bit as his window rattled. The wind was particularly strong tonight. It had just caught him by surprise.

Alfred settled back against his pillows. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, letting his mind wander until the first tendrils of sleep began to lull his mind into oblivion. The shadows in his room looked so odd, morphing into various shapes before his gradually closing eyes. They sometimes turned into curly vines. Then their wavy forms become more rigid, taking on a branch-like visage. Looking more like menacing claws. The wind had ceased rattling his window, though it was by no means any calmer than before. He could still hear it, steadily fading into the background of the real world as he succumbed to his slumber. A musical howl…

_Like the wailing of a lost woman_. His eyes shot open. Oh god…he could hear it! She was here! Alfred pulled the covers over his head. He could feel his breathing become more frantic, hear the wild pounding of his heart. No, she couldn't kill him, right? He was effectively immortal. But so was she, only in a more…dead…way. And there were things so much worse than death.

He whimpered. Maybe Mexico knew some way to ward her off.

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><p>Something felt …off.<p>

When one participated in as many wars as he had, the body conditioned itself to be able to awaken when danger was near. This innate instinct pulled him from his rest. It took a moment to shake the remaining vestiges of sleep from his tired mind.

Mexico had turned on his side sometime in his sleep so that he was now facing the back of the couch. He could see the light from the T.V. glowing against it. He frowned. It was off when he went to sleep. Had Alfred come back?

_Gallina_. He spun onto his back, ready to chastise Alfred for interrupting his sleep. His blood ran cold.

Looking back on it, he'd admit that he couldn't recall exactly what he saw. There was some hint of a sickly gray pallor, he was sure of it, but that faded in comparison to what he did remember. Two abnormally large, bleeding red eyes. Only centimeters away from his own.

He had been to war. He had been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of torture a few times. Many people had died by his hand. He was a warrior, surely worthy of a reputation for being courageous. He knew what to do.

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><p>Alfred didn't turn on the lights, unwilling to give away his location to any hostile specters, so he settled for feeling his way along the corridor. In the dark, the steps seemed much farther away. He could just barely make out a faint blue light from the bottom of the stairwell. Good. Mexico was awake.<p>

"_AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!_"

Alfred froze. She found him! Oh crap, she found him! He was so screwed! He turned around, ready to spring back to the safety of his room, when something grabbed his forearm and pulled him back.

He twisted and raised his arms to the figure, ready to push back. Would he die if he looked at her? He took a quick glimpse.

It was Mexico. His hair was in disarray from his sleep and his eyes had a manic gleam to them. His lips were moving at a fast pace. Had he been talking this whole time?

Mexico shook him violently. "_ES LA LLORONA!_"

Alfred felt his panic begin to rise again. "WHAT!"

"_VIENE POR MI ALMA! ME QUIERE LLEVAR AL INFIERNO!_"

"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!"

"_AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!_"

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Their steps shook the floor as they sped to Alfred's room. Slamming the door shut, they jumped onto the bed and cowered under the covers.

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><p><em>She honored his friendship by destroying everything he loved and everything he was.<em>

_He honored her friendship by dragging her name through the mud until it became synonymous with "traitor."_

* * *

><p>AN: If you're curious about who this memory is about, feel free to ask. If you think you can guess, I'll give ya' a hug & a cookie~! ;D

Hint: Most of the people in his memories are famous/infamous figures in Mexican history.

About _La Llorona_...

The story Mexico tells here contains details from numerous variations of the tale. It's damn near impossible to tell which one is the most "original," if such a version even exists. It's the same basic story: a woman drowns her kids & now she haunts rivers/streams, forever searching for her lost children. I believe the story originated in Mexico, though it spread throughout Latin America and Spain. Every country probably has its own variation of the tale.

A few of my aunts and uncles in Mexico claim to have actually seen (heard?) her, but as I have no solid proof of this, I'll have to label them as stories. I also heard a story of this guy who was the camera man at a wedding. When they replayed his video, they heard a woman's scream throughout the ceremony in the church even though it wasn't heard by anyone when the video was being recorded. Once again, we have to assume it's also just a story since the actual video wasn't shown (& with our technology these days, I'm pretty sure that kind of stuff can be edited in).

When I finished writing that part, it was 2 a.m. Everyone else was asleep. Then dogs started barking like crazy. I was scared. I still am.

...I needz a hug. T-T

_Querido_: Dear.

_Gallina_: Chicken.

_Es la Llorona!_: It's the Weeping Woman!

_Viene por mi alma!_: She's coming for my soul!

_Me quiere llevar al infierno!_: She wants to drag me to hell! (Actually, "llevar" is "to take," so it's more like "She wants to take me to hell!")

I'm not sure if I'll have a chapter up by Monday, but if I don't, then Happy Halloween everybody~! 3


	7. The Morning After?

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the late update, but writer's block hit me like a pimp slapping his bitch.

...wait, wut? O_o

I'd like to thank my readers, my reviewers, people who faved this story or added it on their story alert, & even the people who just glanced at this story before going "What is this piece of crap?" before leaving.

Warning: Bad language, some more Spanish words (translations on bottom!), and certain implications.

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Hetalia, only this bad plot & my Mexico OC.

* * *

><p>Sunlight snuck past a small opening in the window blinds, forcing Mexico to finally awaken. He wasn't sure if he should sob in relief or scream in rage. Sunlight meant morning, which brought about safety from night terrors, but it also brought eyes that burned with exhaustion and a pounding headache.<p>

He sighed into the tangled blanket that pillowed his head. He didn't make any effort to get up; his muscles were still heavy with exhaustion. And the sun's warmth was lulling as it suffused the room. He let the weight of slumber overpower him for the moment. Until a loud snore sounded near his ear.

Of course, he thought bitterly. He wasn't being weighed down with sleep. He was pinned under Alfred.

Alfred's breath was loud as it was expelled next to his left ear. Mexico shifted under the weight, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle out from under the sleeping lummox. Alfred murmured in response to the movement before his snoring resumed.

"Hey…" Mexico placed his arms under his chest and pushed against the mattress, raising his torso just a few inches above it. He felt Alfred's lips curl down into a frown before he found himself being pressed back down forcefully.

"_Despiertate, idiota_," he hissed. He struggled a bit more, finding that his movements were severely restricted by the twisted bed sheets. He couldn't help but fear that Alfred might somehow crush him with his brutish strength.

As if in response, Alfred wrapped his arms around Mexico's waist and began to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. _Mierda_, this man was going to kill him!

"Let go of me, you molesting fatass!"

He heard a snort as Alfred finally woke up. He pulled himself out of Alfred's momentarily weakened grip, letting out a (very manly) squeak as he fell off the edge of the bed.

Alfred rubbed his eyes as he sat up in the bed. "What're you doin' down there?" His voice was still thick with sleep.

Mexico reached up to pull his legs free from the knotted sheets. He wasn't going to acknowledge that with an answer. "Where's your bathroom?"

Alfred pointed to a door on the side of the room. "The extra towels are in the cabinet."

Mexico hummed a response as he stood up and made his way to the other room.

"The blankets feel weird," Alfred called out.

"Probably has something to do with the fact that we just woke up," he answered. He turned on the shower.

"No, I don't think it's that. It feels kind of…moist."

"You were crying a lot last night, so it's not surprising. I think you were also sweating."

"It smells weird too." Alfred froze. "Oh my god, did you-?"

"It's sweat!" He slammed the door closed before Alfred could question him further.

* * *

><p>"You're disgusting, you know that?" Alfred's voice sounded over the running water and through the door.<p>

"Oh, like you were any better last night. Some hero you are," Mexico growled back. He turned his attention back to the mirror on the other side of the room. He hadn't seen his reflection in a while, though not much had changed. His black hair was a bit longer than before; too short in his opinion, as the manner in which the little strands curled up naturally reminded him all too much of the Spanish blood coursing through his veins. His once richly tanned skin had lost some of its luster, taking on a slightly sallow tint. He had lost a lot of weight recently, but then again, he had always been a little on the skinny side, so that wasn't noticeable. Still, his ribs were visible, so that probably wasn't a good sign. The large, green bruise that had appeared on his upper left arm a few months ago was still there. He hoped it would disappear soon.

The sound of the shower turning off pulled him out of his thoughts. "Hey, do you have any pants I can borrow?"

"Why can't you wear your own pants?" Alfred called out.

"They're downstairs."

"Then go get them!"

"_Estas loco_? I'm not going out there by myself!"

"Ugh, fine. Look in the dresser."

Mexico doubted he'd find any clothes in there that would actually fit, but he supposed he'd just need them long enough for him to go downstairs and get his own. He pulled a drawer open. Well, no pants in this one. Plenty of interesting toys there, though.

"Hey, Alfred. Why do you have a garter belt in here?"

Alfred stuck his head out from behind the door. "It, uh…was a gift from France."

"And you kept it?"

Alfred flushed. "It's the only gift he's given me that I can keep legally."

"Oh… Is that a whip?"

"No," he answered hastily. Alfred made his way towards the small table next to his bed and pulled out a comb, running it through his tangled wet hair.

Mexico opened the next drawer, this time succeeding in finding jeans. He stepped into them, letting his towel fall only when the pants had been pulled over his hips. He bent over to pick up the towel when something caught his eye.

"Are those hook-"

"Get out of my room!" Alfred threw his towel at Mexico, who dodged with a laugh as he made his way out of the room.

* * *

><p>The living room looked much better in the daylight, Mexico concluded. The blankets he'd been using were strewn about on the ground from his quick escape the previous night. He reached down to pick them up before folding them and setting them back down on one side of the couch. He sighed. What now?<p>

Deciding on making himself a nice home-cooked breakfast, he made his way to the kitchen through the dining room. He opened the door and walked into the kitchen before scrambling back out.

He heard Alfred stomping down the stairs. "Hey, Alex! You hungry? I can go buy some Mc-"

Mexico didn't even bother to correct Alfred's use of his name before he pulled the other man into the dining room with him. Alfred took note of Mexico's pallid face. "What's up?"

"It's still here…" Mexico whispered.

"What's still-"

"The thing from last night!"

Alfred tensed. "Are you serious?"

Mexico nodded. "It's in the kitchen. See for yourself." He pushed Alfred towards the door.

Alfred pushed back. He didn't want to look in there. He'd get killed. That always happened in the movies. You looked and there was nothing and once you relaxed, the monster would pop back up and eat you or something. But what if the monster decided to stay? He wouldn't be able to live here peacefully knowing there was a monster in this house. He gulped. A hero's got to do what a hero's got to do, he told himself.

He pushed the door open and looked inside. He looked back at Mexico. "It's not there anymore."

A puzzled look set on Mexico's face before he pushed Alfred aside and looked back in the kitchen. "Are you blind? It's right there!" He pointed.

Alfred looked in the direction that Mexico motioned towards. He laughed. "Dude, that's just Tony!"

Mexico made a choked sound. "You named it? Oh god, you fed it too, didn't you? It's never going to leave now!"

Alfred pushed the door completely open and stepped inside. "I haven't introduced you guys yet, huh?" He put an arm around the grey being's shoulders. "Tony, this is Mexico, but you can call him Alex! He's like me and England!"

"Fuckin' limey, bubu" the creature muttered.

"Alex, this is Tony. He's my best friend!" Alfred grinned like he'd won a prize.

Mexico shook his head in disbelief. "W-What is that…_thing_?"

"Never seen an alien before, fucker?" the creature snapped back.

Mexico raised his hands to rub at his temples. "No. Illegal immigrants are aliens. _This_-" he gestured towards the so-called alien "-is something out of your sci-fi movies!"

He grabbed the collar of Alfred's shirt and pulled him back out of the kitchen. "Excuse us," he called back to the strange being.

He led Alfred into the living room before letting him go. "I want that…_thing_ out of here!" he hissed through his teeth.

Alfred pouted. "Why? He hasn't done anything to you."

"He scared the crap out of me last night! What the hell was he doing staring at me while I slept?"

"You were on my controller, bubu," Tony called out from the kitchen.

"I don't care how desperate you are for friends. I want him out!" he growled at the blonde in front of him.

Alfred crossed his arms. "He's been staying with me for years. I'm not kicking him out. It's my house. I can let in whoever I want to!"

"…All right, fine." He raised a hand to halt the start of Alfred's cheer. "On one condition."

* * *

><p>"<em>Mon cher<em>, I do not think Alfred will answer his phone at this time."

England set down his tea as he pulled out his cell phone. Alfred's name was right at the top of the contact list, so he wasted no time in simply pressing a button and raising the phone to his ear as he waited for an answer.

"And just what makes you say that?" He turned his gaze towards the man across the table from him.

They were outside in England's garden. It was a rather lovely morning, so England took the opportunity to have his morning tea outside. Even France's presence wouldn't deter him.

The other man daintily sipped his tea (he was mocking him somehow, England was sure of it) before answering. "It is still rather early at _Amerique's_ house. And besides," he leaned over across the table and held a hand near his mouth as if to share a secret. "He and _Mexique_ might enjoy a little more time alone, _non_?"

"Pervert," England snapped, ending the call. No one had answered. How strange. America always carried his phone around with him. "You know they don't like each other like that." He redialed again.

"How can you be so sure? They don't seem like the type of people to marry just for kicks."

England scowled. "It's a scam of some sort, I'm sure of it. I just have to figure out what Mexico's trying to gain from all this." A click sounded from his phone.

"America?"

"_No, this is Mexico. Who's calling?_"

He frowned. "This is England. I'd like to speak with America. Is he there?"

* * *

><p>Mexico looked down at Alfred. He sat between Mexico's legs, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He had a look of total concentration on his face, completely focused on making sure his hands kept a steady rhythm.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>He's a little busy right now.<em>"

England raised his cup. "Well, I've called him two times already. What's he so busy with that you have to answer his phone?" He took a long drink from his tea.

"_Petting my cock._"

England spat his tea out on the table. "What!" This had to be some kind of sick joke. "What are you doing to Alfred? You're forcing him to do it, aren't you?"

"_I'm not forcing him to do anything. He likes it. What do you think, Alfred?_" England heard the voice become a bit more distant.

"_It's so big!_" He could almost hear the awe in America's voice.

He stood up hastily, pushing back his chair in the process. "D-Don't say such vulgar things!"

"_Eh?_"

"Wanker!" He threw his phone on the ground before storming back inside his house.

* * *

><p>Mexico frowned as he heard a strange crashing sound on the other end of the line. That England guy was a strange little man. He shrugged it off, putting the phone down on the unoccupied part of the couch.<p>

"So?" he asked.

Alfred giggled. "It's so cool! What's his name?"

Mexico smiled back. "His name is Paolo." He reached down to pull the rooster from Alfred's hold and onto his own lap. "He's my most loyal friend."

Alfred scooted closer and resumed stroking the feathered animal, moving his hand in a gentle, soothing motion. "He's so soft and fluffy," he crooned.

"So, your friend Tony can stay here if Paolo can too. Deal?"

Alfred grinned. "Deal."

* * *

><p>France was quick to follow at England's heels. "What happened? What were these 'vulgar' things you were discussing?"<p>

England hissed in response. He pulled his coat off its hook and picked his keys up from a nearby table before making his way towards the front door.

"Where are you going?"

England glared back. "I'm going to America."

* * *

><p>AN: Oh mai~!<p>

What sick things were running through your minds, eh? XD

Mexico has a pretty big rooster alright. Big enough to impress America, it seems. ;D

*shot for using such a crappy pun to move the plot along*

Translations:

_Despiertate, idiota_: Wake up, idiot.

_Mierda_: Shit. (At least, I think that's what it is in Spanish...)

_Estas loco?_: Are you crazy?

Now, who wants a cameo by a cloudcuckoolander Wales? :3

What Welsh stereotypes have you guys heard? Would you like to share some?

I looked some up. The worst one I read was that Welsh people had a reputation for being "sheep-shaggers." Took me 5 minutes to understand what that meant. *slams head on desk for being such a 'tard*

That's a mean thing to say! D:

The "better" stereotypes I heard was that Welsh people tend to be poetic, passionate & musical.

Another one said that Welsh people claim they're pretty good in bed. Or at least very enthusiastic about it. Whether that's a good or a bad thing is completely up to interpretation. X3

Hope no one gets offended by this. Of course, this is Hetalia, so...yeah.

I'll try to have the next chapter up by Tuesday, so if you have anything to share, do it quickly~!

& Happy Halloween, ya'll!


	8. Intermission

**Author's Note: **Sorry! Writer's block is being a real bitch, so I couldn't figure out how to write this chapter.

I ended up making it a really short chapter this time. (We can probably count this as an omake...a very crappy one...)

I also said I'd have it up by Tuesday, so I apologize for that too!

Warning: Poorly written plot, crappy OCs, and, lo & behold, more Spanish words! (You know where to find the translations~!) Oh! & a slight cameo by another OC! *shot*

Disclaimer: My name's not Hidekaz Himaruya, so I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>His head hurts again. He knows this even before he is fully conscious.<p>

He can feel the throbbing on the sides of his cranium, making his ears ache from the sharp, reverberating pain.

He can hear Paolo's crowing in the distance and the hammering of Alfred's steps as he hurriedly makes his way out of the house.

He hears the sharp clacking of the fowl's claws on the wooden floor and the soft clucks as the small creature nears the couch. He tenses, prepared for the next round of crowing at such a close range or to feel the unforgiving stinging from the sharp beak. Instead, the feathered creature jumps onto the couch with him, settling next to his master.

Mexico reaches a hand out from under the thin sheet covering him and lightly pets the bird. He briefly wonders if he should feel sad that a rooster understands him better than the complex creatures he shares an immortal life with.

He closes his eyes again, but the pain wards off all remaining traces of sleep.

Maybe some incense will make him feel better.

* * *

><p>"Roosters suck," Alfred grumbled.<p>

"I thought you liked farm animals."

"Yeah, but this rooster keeps waking me up so early!" he whined.

"That's kind of what roosters are supposed to do," Texas replied.

Alfred frowned. He didn't like staying at home anymore. Every morning, Paolo would climb to the roof and crow as loud as he could at the most ungodly hours of the morning. And Alfred couldn't ignore him. If he did, the rooster would just find a way inside the house, make his way into Alfred's bedroom and peck him awake.

As soon as the little monster had wandered off to find food, Alfred had left to go visit his son. The visit was spontaneous, but despite his complaints, Texas hadn't made a move to kick him out.

At the moment, Texas was looking out the window as he listened to the older man complain. The sun was starting to set and Alfred had been there since morning. "It's getting kind of late now. You should go home."

Alfred grumbled, but stood up anyway. "I'll come back for Thanksgiving," he called out as he made his way out the door.

"Don't bother," Texas yelled back, knowing his answer would fall on deaf ears.

* * *

><p>Alfred wondered if he should feel a little guilty that he'd left Mexico all alone before dismissing the thought altogether. Mexico liked being alone. If he didn't, then he'd certainly prefer it over having to spend time with Alfred.<p>

The house looked rather empty as he approached it. With the darkness of the night setting in, he could just barely make out a dim light coming from the windows in his house. Were the light bulbs out?

He opened the front door only to be immediately assaulted by various strong fragrances. He took a deep breath of fresh air before entering the house.

It was a strange sight to behold. There were candles and glasses of water covering every vacant space in the house save for a very small trail on the floor for him to walk along. He took slow steps as he followed the makeshift path, taking great care not to tip over a single glass or candle. What the hell had Mexico been doing while he had been gone?

Alfred heard movement in the dining room. He sauntered over to the dimly lit room, finding Mexico seated at the table. He looked tired and the alertness in his eyes was absent.

"Are you summoning the devil?" Alfred blurted out. This was getting a little weird.

Mexico started at the sound of his voice, finally taking notice of Alfred's presence. "No." His voice sounded wispy, matching the ethereal atmosphere of the room.

"Oh." Alfred shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "What's up with the candles?"

"_Es el Día de los Muertos_," he murmured.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Speak English, dude. You're in America now."

Annoyance flashed in Mexico's eyes. "It's the Day of the Dead. All Saints Day."

Alfred crinkled his nose. "Sounds creepy. Is it like Halloween?"

Mexico sighed. "No. It's the day, or rather days, where we gather to honor our memories of the dead. It's believed that the spirits return to Earth on these two days-"

"So it's like Halloween?"

"-so we pray for them and bring them food offerings." He paused. "We also light candles, one for every deceased person we remember. Of course, if I did that, I'd run out of room and candles, so I had to settle with just filling up the house."

"And the water?"

"You can't offer food without drinks," Mexico said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We usually gather in cemeteries, though. And today is mostly for my little _angelitos_. I should've brought a toy or something."

"Creepy."

"Not really," he shrugged. "I think you'd enjoy it. We spend a lot of time eating, making art-"

"You had me at 'eating'," Alfred interrupted. He neared the table to inspect the sparse collection of food. "What's that?" He pointed.

"Candy," Mexico responded. "_Calaveras de azucar_. Sugar skulls."

Alfred held one up. "Cool…" He set it back with the others.

Mexico cut a small piece from a large loaf of bread that looked as if it had barely been nibbled on. "Here. Try this."

Alfred took the offering and tore off a small portion to sample. It had a sweet and buttery taste. The thin layer of sugar on the top crust gave it the slightest crunchy sensation.

He stuffed the rest of it into his mouth. "It's good. What is it?"

"_Pan de muerto_."

Alfred reached out for another slice of bread. "English, dude."

"Bread of the dead."

Alfred froze in mid-bite before spitting out the bread. "That's cannibalism!"

Mexico smacked the back of Alfred's head. "It's not made of dead people, you imbecile. It's like hamburgers or hotdogs: they're not actually made with pork or dogs…or so you'd have me believe."

"Oh. Okay then!" Alfred resumed his ingestion of the bread. Mexico was thankful he had enough manners to not try to eat what he just spat out. At least he was enjoying a nice Mexican dish.

"Well, I think I'll be going to bed now."

"Don't wet the couch this time," Alfred mumbled, waving a goodbye.

"Hmm."

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that sucked, didn't it? *hides in shame under a pile of pillows & blankets*

Translations...well, he translates most of them himself, doesn't he?

_Angelitos_: Angels (He's referring to deceased children.)

My understanding is very limited & most likely incorrect, but the Day of the Dead is usually celebrated around the first few days of November. It's celebrated in many different countries with large Catholic populations. People do actually celebrate in cemeteries by bringing food, drinks, & gifts for the dead. They also write poems & participates in various art crafts.

I believe this holiday is very much celebrated in the U.S. states with higher Latino populations (such as California, Nevada, & Texas), but it's not a national holiday (which may or may not explain America's ignorance over the holiday).

Just a little cultural exchange between the two here...yep.

Need a little help, guys!

Can someone please verify for me exactly what yellow roses mean in England? I've looked up their symbolic meanings, but I just end up even more confused than before.

The next chapter should be more relatively easy to write since I have quite a bit of it planned out, but I have some assignments that demand my attention right now, so I may not update 'til after Monday. I'll still be working on it though!

Criticism encouraged!


	9. What Is This? I Don't Even

**Author's Note:** Sorry it took so long to update! Wasn't really sure how to approach this crappy chapter...

I am happy to announce that this is the first thing I've done on this momentous occasion, namely the anniversary of the fact that I'm one year closer to death!

What a damn gruesome way to put it, huh? :3

I got kind of depressed & all, & I almost didn't finish this chapter 'cuz of that.

& then Hetalia came to my rescue! *sigh*

That Hetaween event really made my day~! Check it out if you haven't already! As you can guess, it's riddled with fanservice! :D

Well, enough of my ranting. I'll leave that for the second author's note at the end, yes? *shot*

This chapter includes gratuitous use of French, some strong language, cracky goodness in the form of OC!Wales, &, for a change of pace, some Welsh (translations at the bottom~!).

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters.

* * *

><p><em>"Angleterre<em>, I'm not sure I understand what it is you hope to accomplish."

England chuckled darkly. "Of course not, you stupid frog. You wouldn't be able to appreciate the true genius of a British gentleman."

France tightened his grip on the sides of the seat as he felt the car accelerate. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to let England drive when he was this agitated, but the man had insisted on it.

He bit back a whimper. "But why are we here in Texas, _mon ami_? _Amerique_ usually stays in his capital, does he not?"

"He's staying here, I'm sure of it."

"But how-"

"Trust me, Francis," England interrupted. "I have my ways. I have my ways…"

"He means me!" A voice rang out from the backseat.

"Shut up, Wales! No one's talking to you," England snapped back.

Wales stuck his tongue out in response. "Can you turn on the radio? It's boring."

"No! You'll just start singing again!"

"But-"

"No! Just sit back there and stay quiet!" England hunched over the steering wheel, muttering under his breath.

"I meant to ask earlier, but why did you bring your brother?" France looked at their backseat passenger from the rearview mirror. Wales noticed the stare and waved with a smile. France waved back. "Not that I'm complaining, but I still don't see why he needs to be present for this. Nor I, for that matter."

"How the bloody hell should I know what goes on in his head? As for you, you just followed me."

Wales let out a little hum. "I got bored at home. I figured I may as well tag along since England's paying for the trip."

"You're paying your own way back!"

"When did you become such a meanie, England? You used to be such a cute little brother," Wales pouted.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe it had something to do with the fact that you were always trying to kill me?" England growled.

"Not true! I always sent you warnings whenever our brothers were planning something against you."

England let go of the steering wheel to lean over the back of his seat, yanking the older boy closer by the collar of his shirt. "Yes! By shooting messages attached to flaming arrows at me!"

"_Angleterre_!" France practically leaped out of his seat to reach the steering wheel before the vehicle could swerve into the other lane.

"They always missed, didn't they?"

"_Angleterre_, please! The road-"

"That doesn't make it any better!"

"_ANGLETERRE_!"

* * *

><p>"How can you eat that crap?" Mexico scrunched his nose up in distaste as Alfred stuffed yet another hamburger into his mouth.<p>

"'s not crap! Burgers are freakin' awesome!" Alfred replied, somehow managing to get coherent words past the chewed up mess in his mouth. He swallowed his food before holding a hamburger up in front of Mexico's face. "Try one!"

Mexico turned his face away. "No. That thing is disgusting and practically made of grease. I'll get a heart attack."

Alfred scoffed. "Hamburgers are totally healthy! They're made up of every part of the food group!"

"So are tacos," Mexico retorted, motioning to the food on his plate. "And they have way more flavor." As if to accentuate his point, he took a delicate bite out of a taco.

Alfred pressed the burger against Mexico's face. "C'mon! Just one bite, man. You'll love it!"

Mexico pushed the burger away from his face, smirking all the while. "Tell you what: eat one taco first, and then I'll take one bite from your hamburger."

Alfred frowned. "Why do you want me to eat a taco?"

"Why do you want me to eat a burger?"

Alfred pouted. "It's my house. You should try my food."

"And I'm your guest. At least humor me one time by eating the food I make." He grabbed another taco and held it up to Alfred's lips. "Eat it and I'll try the burger."

Alfred gave a small grunt, refusing to part his lips for the food Mexico was offering.

"You've eaten tacos before, Alfred. This one's no different."

Alfred whimpered before his hand suddenly shot out and knocked the taco to the floor. "No way! You probably did something weird to it!"

Mexico growled. How dare Alfred treat his food like that! He grabbed another taco on his plate before throwing himself on top of Alfred, toppling both of them off the chair in the process. He pressed his forearm against Alfred's throat to keep him pinned down before attempting to force the food into his mouth. "Eat it!"

Alfred turned his head to the side in defiance. "No!"

"Eat the fuckin' taco!" He moved his arm away from Alfred's throat to pry his mouth open before a ringing sounded throughout the house.

The distraction was enough for Alfred to push Mexico's weight off of him before he stumbled away with an overly dramatic cry.

Mexico grumbled before making his way to the door, cursing whoever decided this was an appropriate time to interrupt the rare occasion where he finally had Alfred at his mercy.

* * *

><p>England straightened his suit before making his way towards the front door. He needed to be calm for this. While America was content to remain blissfully ignorant of the atmosphere in any situation, Mexico was a different story. England needed to maintain his composure, lest he stir the younger nation's suspicion.<p>

As he drew near the door, England was fairly certain he could make out the scrape of a chair and loud shrieking. He frowned. Were they fighting? He rang the doorbell quickly. England briefly heard a set of footsteps scampering away before a momentary silence settled on the house.

He raised his hand to the doorbell again before his ears detected what was most certainly muffled Spanish approaching the door. The door creaked, opening only enough for England to be able to identify the shadowed brown eyes of the person behind the door.

England put what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face. "Hello, Mexico. Just the chap I was hoping to see."

* * *

><p>France leaned against the side of the car, watching as England's movements became more animated. He saw the door open completely as Mexico walked out from under the safe shadows of the doorway into the light of the front porch. He hoped it wouldn't take long for England's plan to fail. He wanted to go back home as soon as possible, perhaps to entertain a lovely young partner for the evening. He grinned. If memory served, Wales was free for the rest of the evening…<p>

"Oh look, France! Elves!"

France turned to look where the beige-haired man was pointing in agitation. There was nothing there save for a few stones and twigs. He sighed in exasperation; he'd forgotten just how eccentric the Kirkland brothers could be. Somehow, it just didn't feel right to take advantage of Wales at the moment, what with him being the ditsiest of the siblings.

He supposed he should humor the boy. "Yes, Wales. Those are...very nice elves you have there." He cringed as he forced the words from his mouth.

Wales giggled as he waved at the vacant space. "Do you suppose American elves are friendly?"

France smiled at him. "Why don't you go and find out while we wait for _Angleterre_ to finish up over there?"

"All right!" France watched as Wales approached the space and kneeled in front of it, his lips moving rapidly as he talked to nonexistent creatures.

He turned his attention back to England, curious to see just how his "genius" plan would work out.

* * *

><p>"I know I've been overreacting to this situation of yours-"<p>

Mexico opened the door completely, straightening himself as he regarded England. "You have?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid I've given you the wrong idea the other day on the phone-"

"That was you?" This time, Mexico stepped out of the shadows. England could hear genuine confusion in his voice. Maybe he wasn't as bright as England thought he was.

"Yes, that was me. And I hope that you can forgive my misgivings about this…_thing_ you're doing with America. One must look out for the well-being of their allies. You understand, yes?"

"Yes..." The hesitance in his voice and the skeptical look on Mexico's face was enough to tell him that he was overdoing this.

He cleared his throat. "Well, then…" Mexico wasn't letting up with his suspicious gaze. "I've brought something for you."

Mexico started at this. "A gift for me?"

"Not quite, my boy. Think of it as a token of apology of sorts." He held out a bouquet of yellow roses towards the boy. The figure in front of him stiffened. "My national flower is the rose, you see. Perhaps you can think of this as a sort of alliance between us?" He looked up to see Mexico eyeing the offering with a horrified look on his face. "Not that we're not allies already. More like a new acquaintanceship in light of your…newfound relationship with America."

He watched as Mexico gaped at the flowers. The stare was so intense he was surprised the flowers hadn't already burst into flames. Shit, had Mexico seen the microphone? No, that was impossible. England had made sure to get the smallest device for this mission and he was certain it was well camouflaged among the flower petals. He looked up at the frozen nation. He waved a hand in front of the boy's face. "Mexico?"

As if pulled from a trance, Mexico pulled back his arm. Before England could react, it shot forward, slamming directly into his face. The movement was unexpected and England soon found himself thrown onto his back from the force of the hit.

He faintly heard the sound of a door slamming shut before his mind registered the pain.

* * *

><p>Alfred leisurely strolled back down the stairs. He had been sure that Mexico would try to track him down to force feed him, but when the other nation failed to appear, he had gotten tired of waiting and abandoned his hiding place in favor of finding the older man and riling him up again.<p>

He heard the front door slam close before he caught sight of the infuriated nation approaching him, holding a bunch of yellow flowers.

"Hey, Mexico! Are those flowers for me? Aw, you shouldn't ha-" The bouquet was shoved roughly into his grip. He looked up at the older nation. He looked positively livid.

"Burn those. _Now_," he growled. Mexico turned to walk away before pausing. "If I ever see that England guy come near this house again, I _will_ kill him. Have I made myself clear?"

Alfred grinned before raising his hand in a mock salute. "Yes sir!"

Mexico snarled before making his way to the living room. Alfred hurried into the kitchen and turned on the stove. He held the flowers over the fire until the delicate petals became charred and crumbled into ashes. He turned off the stove only once he was satisfied that the plants were completely burned. What a waste of roses. He wondered where Mexico got them from before dismissing the thought altogether. The flowers were gone and Mexico was pissed off. Another evening well spent.

* * *

><p>France let out another peal of laughter. "You should have seen your face, <em>Angleterre<em>! I wish I'd caught it on camera." He took a deep breath to calm himself a little. "Oh, Spain would have been so proud."

"Ha ha," England hoped the sarcasm was still detectable through the odd whiny tone of his voice. He kept his head tilted back against the seat, holding a bloodied tissue against his nose. He could feel the broken cartilage shift painfully with every slight movement of his hand. It would heal in a few days, but fuck, did it hurt like a bitch now. He hissed as the car passed over a small bump in the road, jostling the arm that was holding his nose. "Didn't think he could hit that hard."

France smirked as he leaned over to fiddle with the radio before turning his attention back to the road. "Haven't you learned not to underestimate our former colonies, _mon cher_?"

England groaned. The pain was too distracting at the moment. England turned his head a bit to look out the window, watching the landscape blur past them.

France stifled another round of laughter as he recalled what had just happened a few moments ago. "So, was that the true genius of the British gentleman? Not very impressive."

"Sod off…" The insult didn't have much of a bite to it this time. "I just didn't approach this situation with a level head. I was being a bit too brash when-"

England jolted up in his seat, eyes wide open in fear. He reached over and pulled on the steering wheel. "Stop the car!"

France slammed his foot down on the brake, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt before it could veer out of control. "Are you trying to get us killed?" he cried out. This was the second time England had endangered them on the road and France was beginning to fear that he wouldn't make it out of this country unscathed.

England hissed in pain again as the force of the car's stop knocked him around violently in his seat. He turned to France. "The radio was on!"

Was that why they nearly died a second time? "Yes! It was on! Have you gone mad?"

England shook his head, setting off a new torrent of blood from his nose. "No, you don't understand! The radio was on!" He stared at France, as if hoping that he would make sense of the nonsense he was spouting. "Where's Wales?"

France prepared to snap back at him before the realization set in. The radio was on. And Wales wasn't singing. Which meant that Wales…

"_Mon Dieu_!"

"YOU LOST MY BROTHER, YOU BLOODY WANKER!"

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh fy<em>," Wales glanced around nervously. This was…definitely not America. Not even the human world by the feel of it. The magic here was stifling, leaving no doubt as to where he was.

"The fae world…" he muttered under his breath. He should have known better than to approach elves like that.

"Human!"

Wales turned towards the source of the voice. He saw no one for miles around. Maybe they were flying. He looked up only to feel something tugging on his pants leg. Looking down, he caught sight of a spindly little form.

He smiled. "Aw, hello there!"

The creature took a few steps back. "What are you doing here, human?"

"Oh, I'm not human. I was actually hoping you'd tell me how I got-"

"Just like you elves to let humans pollute our world!" another voice shrieked.

Wales caught sight of another short creature with gangly limbs. This creature, however, was much more unsightly with his clawed hands and mottled skin that took on a sickly greenish-gray tone.

A goblin, he realized. If there was one here, then there would be others hiding nearby. Best get out of there before he angered them even further. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. If it's not too much trouble, could you help me find-"

"You humans never '_mean to_,' but you do it anyway!" the goblin snapped. "First you chase us out of the human world, and now you're coming here too?" He stomped his foot against the ground before shaking a fist at Wales. "Your kind chased my family from our home long ago! It used to be a wonderful place filled with trees and caves and animals until you greedy English came alo-"

The goblin's rant was cut short by a foot driving into his stomach, causing him to double over. He risked a quick glance at his attacker.

"_Nyd yw Saesneg_! _Cymraeg_!" Wales cried out before pulling his foot back to deliver another kick to the offending creature. Two small hands reached out to grasp his pants leg.

Wales looked back down at the tiny humanoid, who had taken to hopping around him. "The human has defeated a goblin!"

Wales caught sight of more movement behind his back. He turned to see other miniscule creatures emerge from behind some nearby foliage. They pranced towards him. Once they formed a circle around him, they held hands and began to skip around him.

"The human is a hero! A warrior sent to free us!" they cheered in unison with their chirpy little voices.

Wales shifted uncomfortably where he stood. This could be a problem.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** We won't be seeing much of Wales again. He'll be stuck in the fairy world for a long time~! =7=

*shot again*

More culture trivia!

In Mexico, the color yellow symbolizes contempt/scorn (though I'm not quite sure if that's still what it means in present-day Mexico). Yellow roses mean death. Iggy unknowingly threatened Mexico. :3

In Mexico's mind, he's not overreacting when he says he'll kill England if he gets near him.

I used Google to translate those Welsh words, so they're probably inaccurate or have poor grammar or some crap like that...

_Oh fy_: Oh my.

_Nyd yw Saesneg_! _Cymraeg_!: Not English! Welsh!

Welsh people, Irish people, & Scottish people apparently get _really_ pissed off when others confuse them or refer to them as English. It's pretty understandable; I mean, you'd probably find it annoying if people automatically assumed you were English just because you live in the UK or something.

In celebration of my birthday, I'm going to spam the hell out of you people! XD

No, but seriously, I'd like to offer you guys some fic recs in gratitude for reading my fic.

Check out the Hetalia fics written by ButterFish, Liete, & ArixaBell whenever you have the time. They are incredible writers who have skills that I will forever envy & worship (well, not worship X3 ).

Miss Liete constantly mentions having an unhealthy addiction to writing stories about delinquent!England, but they are just as addicting to read.

For ArixaBell, all her fics are entertaining, but you guys should check out "Three Little Words" & its sequel "This Could Be The Start Of Something Big." I say this because they're Denmark x America fics, but they are so cute & funny (especially the second one, &, good gawd, the pairing actually works!).

In regards to ButterFish, her talent is best seen in the fic "American dreams in an English village." This fic is so damn beautiful. It's a work in progress & it's a story that really makes you sympathize with the characters and sometimes leaves you feeling warm & fuzzy. No other fic has ever made me want to laugh, cry, & punch Alfred in the face at the same time.

You don't have to check them out if you don't want to.

If you do, please don't leave me! D: *shot again for being so obviously desperate*

Criticism will forever be encouraged here!

Thankies & enjoy~!


	10. It's a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!

**Author's Note:** My apologies for the super late update folks!

Chapter 10 was going to be different & it was going to be updated last week, but then I was all "Hey, it's almost Thanksgiving. Might as well have another crappy holiday themed extra." I was gonna update a few hours ago, but then my dad was all "If we're going to the movies, we better go one hour earlier!" 'cuz, you know, Black Friday & all.

...

Also, I haz Hetalia movie! :D

On that subject, I _despise _the lyrics that Funimation used for the ending song. It's filled with puns. & not funny puns like the ones Jafar uses in "Aladdin." Terrible puns.

Happy Thanksgiving~!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its official characters.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The day before Thanksgiving…<strong>_

"You _estadounidenses_ have such a morbidly fascinating culture," Mexico commented. He watched Alfred make his way over to the kitchen table with a medium sized box.

Alfred set the heavy box down on the tabletop before straightening up. "Huh?"

"I was just saying how this 'Thanksgiving' of yours is a strange holiday, though I'm not really one to fault it," he continued with an overly dramatic sigh. "I suppose there's nothing quite like decimating a population of poultry to celebrate the anniversary of the start of the genocide of the indigenous people of your land, eh Alfred?"

Alfred cocked his head to the side. "What?"

Mexico gave a little wave of his hand. "Nothing, nothing." Sometimes it was really worth it to have a more advanced vocabulary than Alfred. It really brought out his…_blondeness_, so to speak.

Alfred shrugged off Mexico's words and turned his attention back to the box. "You're gonna finally see how awesome my holidays are!"

"I'd rather not," he mumbled, giving the box a disdainful look. "What is that?"

"It's the turkey," Alfred responded with a grin. "You better get started on it!"

Mexico sputtered. "Me? Why do I have to cook your turkey?"

"Well, you know how to cook it, don't you?"

"Yes, but that's not the point! It's your holiday, not mine!"

Alfred smirked. "Do you really want _me_ to cook it?"

"…No." He'd rather not get food poisoning on top of his daily bouts of nausea.

"Then it's settled!" Alfred grabbed his trademark jacket off the back of a chair and turned to leave.

"Wait! Where the hell are you going?"

"Gonna visit Texas really quick," he called back while tugging on his jacket.

"Don't just leave me alone!" The door slamming shut was his only response. He frowned. Leaving him to cook his meal? What a dick.

Mexico approached the box and pulled it open. He let his gaze linger on the bird for a moment before a thought occurred to him.

This could be a lot of fun…

"Hey, alien-guy-thing! Do you know where I can get some quail at this time?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanksgiving Day…<strong>_

"Mornin'!" Alfred called out. He approached Mexico and looked over his shoulder to watch him work. "How long ya' been up?"

"A while," Mexico sighed. He'd felt too giddy to sleep peacefully, so he got up early to start on the preparations on the turkey.

Alfred rocked back and forth on his heels. "Watcha' doin'?"

Mexico suppressed a groan. "Stuff."

"…Thanksgiving stuff?"

"Yes!"

Alfred just smiled back. "Want me to help?"

"No! Just leave! Don't you have other things to do besides bothering me?"

"Not really."

Mexico gave him a skeptical look. "Aren't your kids coming over? Shouldn't you be getting ready for their arrival or something?"

Alfred puffed his cheeks out. "No. They think they're too old to come celebrate the holidays with their dad now." He elbowed Mexico in the ribs. "You know how kids are."

No, he didn't know. Thanks to Alfred.

"Well, I need silence to work and I don't think I'll be getting that as long as you're around."

"You're no fun!" Alfred whined. He wandered out of the kitchen. Mexico relaxed until he heard Alfred walk back inside. "Look at what your owner's cooking. That's practically your cousin right there!"

Mexico turned to see Alfred hold Paolo up in view of the turkey in the metal pan. "Put him down!" He quickly wiped his hands clean on the nearest hand towel before pulling the poor rooster away from Alfred's grip. "Don't look, Paolo. Evil _gringo_, trying to corrupt your innocent mind," he cooed. He set the fowl down, watching him scurry away with frantic clucks.

"Aw, why do you have to be such a killjoy?"

"My rooster is _not_ a toy for your amusement!" He looked down at the half-stuffed bird on the counter. "Do you know if Texas kept any white wine in here?"

"Yeah, I think he keeps the drinks in the basement."

"Great! Go get them!" He waited until Alfred's footsteps became inaudible before turning back to the turkey. He only had a few moments until Alfred returned. Mexico hurried over to the refrigerator and pulled out a small container. He'd prepared it the previous night while Alfred was visiting his kid. He opened the dish and pulled out its contents. He tugged at the seams on the lower portion of the turkey until he was satisfied that the opening was large enough. Using a fork, he proceeded to empty the poultry of its stuffing and replace it with the makeshift filling. Hearing Alfred stomp back up the stairs, he re-tightened the thread on the turkey and threw the container with the stuffing back into the refrigerator.

Alfred entered the room looking down at the bottle in his hands. "Is this all right?" He held out the bottle.

Mexico smiled. "It's perfect."

* * *

><p>Alfred was practically jumping in place. "See? I knew you could cook it!"<p>

Mexico just shrugged, trying to maintain an indifferent expression on his face. On the inside, he was laughing. So very much.

Alfred's strange friend (Tony, was it?) was looking over the edge of the table at the dish in the center. He let out a strange, high-pitched noise and gave Alfred a questioning look.

"That's a turkey, man! We eat them every year! Don't you remember?"

Tony let out another strange noise before turning his gaze towards Mexico and giving something akin to a growl.

"Nah, Mexico wouldn't do anything to mess up the food!" Alfred laughed.

Another whining noise. "You're so weird sometimes, Tony," Alfred said with a grin. "Look! His chicken isn't afraid to get near it." He motioned towards the rooster, who had proceeded to hop onto the table in the midst of their observation of the meal.

"It's a rooster, not a chicken." Mexico's comment was ignored.

Tony grumbled in his strange language before pulling himself up onto the table. He grabbed a knife next to the turkey and proceeded to cut the turkey open.

"That's the spirit, Tony!" Alfred cheered. He was seemingly unaware that the alien's movements were becoming more aggressive with each passing moment. When he finally stopped, the turkey was little more than a shredded mess of white meat with only the stuffing left intact. Tony poked the insides with the tip of the knife before turning back to Alfred with a curious look on his face.

"What's that you have there, Tony?" Alfred leaned to look over the creature's shoulder. "Looks like a small bird…"

"You cooked a pregnant turkey!" Mexico screamed.

Alfred spun around at the exclamation. "What?"

"Holy crap! You killed a baby turkey! Murderer!" He pointed at Alfred while backing away from him.

"I…I didn't-"

"YOU MONSTER!"

He could see the blood drain from Alfred's face as the accusation made its way into his head. A horrified expression set on his face. "No!" Alfred shrieked as he ran from the dining room and scrambled up towards his bedroom.

Mexico nearly broke down in laughter at Alfred's reaction. "You're such a fucking blonde!" he called out after him. Oh god, that was priceless. He leaned heavily on the chair in front of him until his barking laughter had quieted down to nearly breathless giggles. He looked up to see Tony and Paolo glaring down at him from their places on the table. "What?"

Paolo tilted his head to the side before launching himself toward his owner.

Mexico screamed and raised his hands in an attempt to protect himself from the bird's vicious pecking. "Oh god, stop! It was just a joke!" The rooster proceeded to flap his wings to beat them against Mexico's arms. "I used a quail, not a chicken! You're supposed to be on my side! _Malinchista_!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Mexico just loves having fun at America's expense, don't he? :D

"_Estadounidenses_" is a term used in some (or all?) Latin American countries to describe a citizen of the United States. It literally means something along the lines of "Unitedstatesian." This brings up a moot point for the Latin countries as the term "American" technically applies to anyone born in this continent (South _America_, Central _America_, etc.); however, it would be increasingly difficult for citizens from the U.S. to find an easy to use term like that to describe ourselves by this point, so we seem to be stuck referring to ourselves as "Americans" for the moment. I can't find it in me to call myself "American" without trying to use correct terminology anymore.

"_Malinchista_" is a term used to describe someone who prefers foreign ways over their own or someone who sells out their kin (so to speak) to foreigners. The term is derived from La Malinche, an infamous woman in Latin history. She was Cortes' translator & mistress, & helped the Spaniards in the conquest of the Aztec Empire.

Next chapter should be up in a week or so.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll~!


	11. Fanning the Flame

**Author's Note: **Hey guys. Sorry for the super late update.

Just uber depressed 'cuz I'm uploading this at 5 a.m. & I was almost finished writing the super long note at the bottom when the page changed and I didn't save this so now I have to start over again & my hand hurts & I'm tired...

Bad news: I won't be updating for at least the next two weeks. I have 16 school projects (I wish I was exaggerating) due this week & finals next week among other crap I need to do.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Warning: This chapter contains gratuitous Spanish and French, OOC-ness (sorry about that too!), & cameos by OCs in the forms of the Latin American Nations.

Italicized passages are flashbacks.

* * *

><p>"<em>Now, repeat after me: Dame un beso."<em>

_Spain turned his attention towards the gaggle of colonies that sat on the lawn. Some of them had looks of total concentration on their faces as they tried to make sense of Spain's writing. Others were gazing at their surroundings or pulling at the grass blades. The rest looked as though they were on the verge of falling asleep._

_He cleared his throat in hopes of waking them up. When that failed to work, he smacked the board with the switch he was holding. The whipping sound startled them into sitting up straight._

"_Don't fall asleep during your lesson," he scolded. At least he had their attention now. "Let's start over." He used the switch to point to the topmost word on the writing board. "How do you say my name?"_

_They just stared back._

_Spain frowned. "Come on. Just try it. 'España.' Say it with me: Es-pa-ña." He drew the last syllable out a bit longer than he needed to. "Remember your pronunciation."_

_Some of them leaned forward as if by getting a better view of the word would help them understand it better._

_Cuba raised his hand slightly. "S…Spa-"_

"'_Eh,'" Spain interrupted. "Remember the 'eh' sound at the beginning."_

_The small colony's lower lip trembled but he continued. "Eh-" he sampled the sound "-eh. Eh-spa-" He frowned. _

"_Come on, you almost had it," Spain encouraged._

_Cuba pouted before crossing his short arms across his chest. "I don't know that noise!" he whined, switching to the language that belonged solely to the nations._

"_Eñe," Spain corrected. "It's called an 'eñe.' And you pronounce it like…" Hmm… How to explain this to his colonies? "Like a cat! Go 'nyah'! Nyah!" He could practically feel Prussia's boisterous laugh coming from the side of the house. His colonies just stared with looks of horror and confusion._

_Cuba took a deep breath. "'Spa-NYAH!" He giggled at the foreign noise and clapped. _

"_Nice try. Now say it right," Spain continued, quickly ending the young boy's momentary joy._

"_Yoohoo~! España! You're not going to keep your guests waiting, are you? Its bad manners, you know," France trilled from his place next to Prussia._

_Spain scowled. He hadn't even gotten past the first part of the lesson yet._

"_Spain, can we leave now? It's too early for this!" Venezuela wailed._

"_You know, you guys should be embarrassed that France can speak better Spanish than you can."_

"_We're hungry, Spain. Can't we have our desayuno now?" Chile murmured as she moved to grab Spain's hand. Her voice was so soft, barely audible, and the way she looked at Spain with her large, glittery ash-colored eyes as she spoke his language almost made his heart melt. _

_Almost._

_He steeled himself before pulling his hand out from her grip. "Not yet. Go inside and change into some old clothes that you won't mind getting dirty." A collective grumble began to rise from the crowd of colonies. Spain smacked the board with the switch again, effectively silencing them. "Now."_

_The colonies hastily made their way into the house, uneager to anger the conquistador. _

_Spain sighed before making his way towards the other nations. _

"_That was just fuckin' adorable, Spain," Prussia snickered. "You tuck them into bed at night too?"_

_France smirked. "Don't tease him, Prusse. You simply don't know the joys of caring for something innocent as a colony." He thought of his own dear Canada waiting for him back in the Americas. It hurt to leave such a sweet little boy like him all by himself, and so close to that English brute, but he could not risk exposing his darling colony to influences such as those of his…charming companions. _

_Spain stretched out his arms as he stood next to them. "This whole 'being strict' thing isn't fun. Do you think Austria might be wrong about it?"_

"_Eh? If you're taking advice from that prick, then of course everything's gonna go wrong-"_

_France quickly covered Prussia's mouth with his hand to stop what would likely be another ensuing rant about the aristocratic nation. "Who knows, Spain? You have already tried being lenient with Romano. And Austria has been a strict guardian towards Italy. Which option has the more favorable results?"_

_Spain bit his lip. As much as he loved Romano, he couldn't deny that Italy would be easier to live with._

"_I guess it'd be worth a try, right?" He felt his smile return, facial muscles aching a bit from their lack of use that morning. "Thanks for coming, France. Are you sure this isn't a problem for you?"_

"_Nonsense, mon cher! You said you simply needed me to give them haircuts, non?"_

_Spain nodded. _

"_Holy fuck! Are you serious? You're going to give haircuts to all of his little brats? We're gonna be here forever! Spain's like a rabbit when it comes to colonies!"_

_France scoffed at the comment. "Where are the scissors?"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>London, England<strong>_

Mexico nearly sobbed in joy when they finally walked out into the airport terminal. Sweet, stable land! He would have possibly even started to kiss the ground, but he had far too much dignity for that.

The flight attendants also scrambled out, crying and running in terror as they saw the sources of their misery. Between him rapidly depleting their supply of airsickness bags and Alfred knocking about the confined space out of pure boredom, he wouldn't blame the airline if they were banned from ever returning again.

He could already feel that this conference was going to be an unpleasant one. While no one would particularly care if he skipped another meeting (so long as he got the notes from someone else), he had missed far too many meetings already. He groaned as the cold London weather seeped into his joints, making them ache a little more. His legs were cramped from having to sit still for hours and his stomach churned violently at the overwhelming scent of the airplane fuel.

Alfred just smiled as he moved to stand next to him. "Shall we proceed?" he grinned, mimicking Mexico's speech pattern.

"It better be a nice hotel," he growled. How Alfred could be so cheery after that plane ride was beyond him.

* * *

><p><em>Spain had explicitly told him to keep his hands to himself and focus only on cutting their hair, but France couldn't resist flirting a bit with the colonies. Most of them couldn't even be considered children by this point, having grown so much already since they came under Spain's rule. Besides, what Spain didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?<em>

_That train of thoughts kept his conscience clean as he crooned over how adorable and lovely the colonies were getting. Even if Spain chewed him out on corrupting his wards after all his hard work in educating them on religion, it would be worth it to see the colonies blushing and stuttering their thanks._

_He smiled as Chile stammered her appreciation. She was so timid in comparison to the others. He blew her a kiss before waving away the flustered girl._

_Mexico slumped into the chair and France couldn't help but grimace a bit. His hair was shaggy and seemed to be mostly composed small knots. He poked the boy in the side to get him to sit up straight before he set to work on untangling his hair._

_Mexico squirmed whenever France had to tug harshly on a particularly stubborn knot, but didn't say much otherwise._

_France pursed his lips together when he came across a lone curl of hair that refused to stay down along with the others. He had seen similar ones on a few of the other colonies, but hadn't felt the need to question them. "You're so quiet, Mexico. Don't you have anything to share with big brother France?"_

_A small grumble was his only response._

_France picked up his scissors and began to clip off the frayed ends of Mexico's hair. "Aw, come on now. I'm sure you have many stories to tell me. Everybody else did. How has everything been?" _

_The young boy shrugged. "Okay, I guess."_

"'_Okay'? That's not very comforting. Is something wrong? Maybe big brother can help you."_

"_Spain says you're the country of love. Is that true?" Mexico turned around, pulling himself up so that he was kneeling on the chair._

"_Of course, mon cher! No one can beat me in the field of romance." France set his tools down before leaning forward. "What's on your mind?"_

_Mexico hesitated. "Um…when you love someone, do you really do anything for them?"_

_So, the boy wanted his counsel on love? "Well, that's one of the basic notions of love that people believe." He smirked. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why the sudden interest in romance? You're still such a young colony. It's far too soon for you to be thinking about these things. What brought this on? Perhaps some lovely young lady has caught your eye, non?"_

_Mexico flushed before looking away. "No!" _

_France chuckled before pulling the boy off of the chair and into his lap. He was so endearing like this. "Aw, come on now. Don't lie to big brother! What's her name?"_

_Mexico stopped struggling and directed his gaze on the ground. "…Marina…" he mumbled._

"…_Was there some heartbreak involved?" he inquired, taking note of the depressed aura coming from the younger boy._

"…_kind of. She hurt me."_

_France began to run his hand through Mexico's hair in a soothing motion. "Don't let this get you down, mon cher. It is only one girl. You still have a long life ahead of you and many more possible lovers to meet." He placed his hand on Mexico's cheek and turned the boy's head so that he was facing him. "I should know. I've been around longer than any of you have, so trust me on this." He smiled down warmly at the boy._

_Mexico returned his smile shyly. "Have you ever been in love, France?"_

_France let out a roaring laugh. "Oh, you are just adorable when you say things like that!" He pinched Mexico's cheek. "You do not understand, mon petit. You still think with the mindset of a human because you are still a fresh colony, but I will make this clear for you since Spain clearly has not: love is not for us. Nations are eternal beings who cannot be restrained by such human concepts. Sure, love may seem like a fascinating notion to us at first, but it wears down over time until it is gone, and then all that we have are the remains of what once was and awkward relationships that can never be repaired." The amused look in his eyes had not disappeared. "We cannot love other nations because when that love ends, we will never be able to cooperate as smoothly as we did before. We cannot love humans because they are vulnerable to time, among other things…" His voice trailed off for a second before he composed himself again. "But it is all for the best! We are beyond such things. Silly limitations that even humans cannot be bothered to abide by. We are fickle by nature and there is no shame in that. So do not dwell on these little nuisances, mon cher! Let us look forward to making the most out of our lives!" With that said, France ushered the boy back onto the chair before picking up his tools to resume fixing Mexico's hair._

_Mexico didn't speak up again._

* * *

><p>The meeting went on as any other he remembered, basically in that nothing ever got done. He failed to see the point on these meetings; it wasn't like they could do anything to change their countries themselves anyway. There were always their bosses and other officials to go through, as well as their people and, of course, other nations who got in the way of things.<p>

With England leading this meeting, there was even more chaos than usual as even the wall far in the back of the room was more interesting to pay attention to than whatever England was discussing.

He felt something hit the back of his bead. Turning around, he let his gaze roam until he saw the sardonic grin on Guatemala's face. He stuck his tongue out at him. He got a middle finger in response.

And so, the meeting went on as usual…

"America! Stop doodling on your documents!"

"No, Italy. It's not lunchtime yet."

"Sealand! How many times have I told you that you don't belong in any of our conferences?"

"Australia, stop kicking your bag."

"No, Korea. Lithuania's breasts do not belong to you. They don't belong to you either, Russia."

"Australia! What did I just say?"

"No piano's allowed in the conference room!"

"Australia! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THAT?"

* * *

><p>It came as no surprise (except to England) that there were collective sighs of relief when their break finally arrived. Mexico stretched his sore limbs as he stood from his seat. He began to wonder where he should go eat when a heavy weight pressed against his back.<p>

"You never visit big brother anymore," a very French voice purred into his ear.

Mexico resisted the urge to throw the other man across the room. "Well, you know life: everything just gets worse."

"I can think of many ways to make it better," France teased as a lecherous smile broke out across his face. He wrapped an arm around Mexico's waist and pulled him closer.

Mexico felt his eye twitch as France closed the distance between them. His hands began to wander just a little too low for his liking. Every instinct yelled at him to run. This was _Puebla_ all over again. _Bad touch, bad touch, bad touch-_

"What do you say?"

"I need an adult! I NEED AN ADULT!" Mexico cried out.

France pulled him into a full embrace. "I'm all the adult you'll need..."

"France! He has a husband! You need to respect the sanctity of his marriage," Hungary eased her arms between the two men and pushed them apart. Before Mexico could thank her for intervening, she took his hands and clasped them between her own. "Why didn't you invite us to your wedding? How long were you two dating before you got married? Let's find America so I can congratulate you both. Did you take any pictures of your wedding? Oh, you have to tell me everything!"

Mexico shook his head. "No! There will be no meeting America! There was no wedding."

Hungary gasped. "It's not a real marriage without a wedding." A dreamy look set upon her face. "I remember when Austria and I got married. It was such a beautiful wedding. I wish we had pictures to show you." Her gaze intensified and her lips twisted up into an unsettling smile. "You can still have a wedding, you know. It'll be so fun! We can help you order a cake and we'll get you a nice dress-"

"No dresses!" He wasn't sure who was worse, France or Hungary? "I mean, wouldn't it be better to discuss this while eating?"

"Of course!" Hungary squealed.

* * *

><p>England dragged Australia by the ear down the corridor to the cafeteria he had reserved for the nations. "I honestly don't know where you get it from. How many times have we told you to stop bringing animals to our conferences?"<p>

"How come Seychelles gets to carry a dead fish wherever she goes?"

"I'd much rather have a fish corpse in the meeting room than that rabid bear of yours," England growled.

Australia grimaced. "I told you before! He's not a bear, he's a marsupial!"

England responded by yanking on his ear a little harder. "It's an animal and it doesn't belong in a conference room. You're going to explain to the hotel manager just why there are claw marks all over the desks." They reached the cafeteria and as he made his way inside (with Australia trailing behind), he immediately caught sight of America and Mexico speaking with France and Hungary.

He released his grip on Australia's ear.

"Fuckin' hell, I think you broke some cartilage."

"Just don't bring that bear again," England repeated. "No snakes either!" he called out to Australia's retreating back.

"Marsupial!" he yelled back.

England made his way over to where the small group was standing. He saw Mexico tense up at the sight of him and push America in front of him like a shield. America looked surprised until he saw England approaching them.

"Hey, England! What happened to your face?"

Of course he'd start off with that. Everyone had been polite enough to avoid the topic of why England had unsightly dark bruises around his eyes and nose. He was lucky that his nose had healed before this conference, but the bruises were taking their sweet time to disappear. Francis had offered him some make-up to hide the marks, but he'd be damned before he let the frog touch his face. "Nothing you need to hear about. From me, at least." He gave a scathing glare to Mexico, who just stared back.

America remained oblivious to the slowly growing hostility in the area. "Well, it takes attention away from your eyebrows, so I guess it's all good," he snickered, reaching up to poke at England's eyebrows.

England slapped his hand away before clearing his throat. "We haven't really had time to discuss our special relationship lately, so I was hoping we could do it during the break."

"But we just got out of a meeting!" America moaned.

"You can eat while we talk about it," England sighed.

* * *

><p>"Don't just leave me with them!" Mexico hissed into Alfred's ear. If Alfred left, he'd be stuck answering to Hungary or France (or worse, both). If he went with Alfred, they might trail after him and he'd have to worry about England following through on his threat.<p>

Alfred shrugged his hands off his shoulders. "Dude, what's your problem?"

He was about to retort when he felt two pairs of hands grip his arms. "Mexico! We've been looking all over for you! Did you forget that we were going to talk about the games?" Nicaragua smiled at the others. "Confidential stuff. Bye!" Mexico stumbled as they yanked him back.

He almost fell when they threw him towards a chair at their table. Leaning against the chair for support, he looked up to see his neighbors surrounding him.

Chile smiled. "Have a seat, Mexico."

Despite the nagging suspicion, he did as he was told. The others returned to their own seats. Some resumed picking at their lunch (none were too eager to actually try and see if this particular English meal they were offered was safe to eat). The others just watched him with knowing smiles.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What?"

Chile leaned forward, resting her head on her hands. "So…you and Alfred, huh?" She smirked.

Mexico pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't start with that."

Guatemala slammed his hands down on the table. "See? I told you guys there was something between them, but you wouldn't believe me!" He pointed at Mexico. "_Admítelo_!"

"I don't have to listen to your crap," Mexico scoffed.

"Don't mind him. He just misses his _hermano_, that's all," Chile pushed Guatemala back into his seat. "What're you two up to?"

"Why is it so hard for you guys to believe we're not up to something? Can't we just leave the issue here alone?"

"Nope," she beamed. Chile tilted her head to the side as she studied him, as though she could somehow find the answers she wanted if she just stared long enough. "If we asked you in a more _private_ place, would you tell us?"

"If I wouldn't tell you in public, what makes you think I would tell you in private?"

Chile motioned to the side with her head. Mexico turned to look at the table next to them in time to see the nearby nations quickly twist their heads away, too slow to avoid being seen by him.

"…You're not going to let this die, are you?"

"Not when it involves the great and powerful 'America' and his self-proclaimed rival."

Mexico rolled his eyes and began to counter Chile's statement when he caught sight of someone waving at him from across the room. The nation and the group she was with rose from their table, picked up their food, and made their way towards the Latin Americans.

Mexico hastily stood up. "Well, it's been nice seeing you. Don't call me and I won't call you. _Hasta luego_." He hurriedly left before either his siblings could stop him or the other nations arrived.

* * *

><p>England wasn't sure if he should be disgusted or fascinated with how America ate. He just stuffed everything into his mouth and it didn't seem to go anywhere. Hell, England wasn't even sure where America had gotten his food from. He was sure there weren't any fast food places nearby. Had he just pulled the burger out of nowhere? Somehow, that wouldn't surprise him.<p>

He sighed. Confronting America about this didn't get him anywhere. When England had inquired about America's new housemate, all he had gotten in response was a curt mumble of, "_Keeping job and marriage apart. Not supposed to talk about it. Eating._" It hadn't been a meaningless answer though; America had inadvertently confirmed one thing: Mexico was up to something. Otherwise, he wouldn't have instructed America to keep their marriage on such a low profile. It made him uneasy to see how nonchalant America was about this. He wondered if it was possible that he was Mexico's accomplice in this before dismissing the thought completely. No, America would have mentioned something like this to his closest allies…wouldn't he?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the annoying sound of America sucking on a straw. Could he possibly be any noisier?

America gulped down his soda and exhaled loudly. "So, any problems I should know about?"

"The same ones as usual. My people are starting to complain again about this being a one-sided relationship."

America just shrugged. "I told you I'd work on that." He frowned. "You're not gonna end it…are you?"

England shook his head. "I don't think so, but who knows how much longer this hostility towards you will last." He saw a look of shame settle on America's face as he looked down at the table. He pursed his lips before he reached out to place his hand over one of America's. "I know one thing for sure." America looked up at him. "You need to tell your boss to stop referring to everyone else as you 'closest ally.' That title is reserved for me only." England knew he had the same silly grin on his face that America did. He hesitated for only a second before leaning forward and pressing his lips against America's. His lips were as soft as he remembered them. England felt America's lips quirk up again into a little smile before his tongue darted out to lap lightly against his mouth. England opened his mouth to return the gesture before he suddenly felt something wrench his head back violently, causing him to fall back onto the ground with his chair. The impact of his head on the floor blinded him for a moment. When his sight came back in black blotches, he saw a tall figure crouching over him. He felt the other's breath expel over his face.

"Don't you know it's immoral to kiss a married man?"

England's eyes shot open and he scrambled away from Mexico. "Wha…What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Mexico glowered at him as he stood up. "I should be asking you that." He moved to stand next to America, who also stood and looked utterly confused about what had just happened to England.

The entire room had gone silent. England was painfully aware that every eye was on them at the moment.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Why were you kissing my spouse?" The tone in Mexico's voice was cold and deadly.

England forced his trademark scowl on his face. "We were discussing politics."

Mexico's nose twitched in irritation and he resisted the urge to snarl at the smaller nation. "And how is that an excuse?"

England's brows furrowed. "We're nations," he replied as though the answer was obvious.

"Like I said: how is that an excuse?"

England stammered a bit before closing his mouth. They were _nations_. What part of that didn't Mexico understand?

* * *

><p>When it became clear that England wasn't going to answer soon, Mexico turned his gaze towards America. "Well?"<p>

America didn't answer, but he also didn't falter under the accusing look. Instead, he chose to return it.

Mexico looked back down at England, regarding him for a moment before yanking America forward and slamming their mouths together.

The kiss lasted for only a second and when it ended, the two nations practically jumped apart. They gaped at each other for a moment. Mexico scanned the room, finally taking notice of their audience. He felt his cheeks begin to heat up at the realization of what he had just done. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you for your hospitality, England, but I hope you understand when I tell you that if I ever see you on our side of the continent, I'll kill you." He gave himself a mental pat on the back for managing to keep his voice sounding steady. "We'll be leaving now." He reached out to grab America's wrist and pulled the stunned nation out of the room.

* * *

><p>None of the other nations moved even after the footsteps going down the hallway had disappeared. They were all trying to process what had just happened and imprint it into their minds.<p>

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all!" Prussia snickered.

* * *

><p>Mexico and America did not exchange any words on their way to the hotel or on the way to the airport. They distanced themselves as much as they could in their adjacent seats on the airplane. They did not even look at each other as they made their way back to their shared dwelling that now seemed far too unnervingly distant from the nearest town. It was only when they walked through the front door and closed it behind them that they acknowledged each other.<p>

"…It never happened." Mexico's voice cut through the suffocating silence. America turned to look at him, seeing that the other nation's back was still facing him.

America nodded before reminding himself that the other man couldn't see him. Mexico left before he could get the words out of his mouth.

America made no move to leave. Paolo eventually scampered into the room and proceeded to peck at the ground around America.

He sighed. This was going to be unbearably awkward.

* * *

><p>AN: I'd like to thank _Nolimy-kun_ for helping me with some Mexican history. I gives her a cookie~! *glomp*

Translations:

_Dame un beso.: _Give me a kiss. (You knew this was coming.)

_desayuno:_ breakfast

_mon cher:_ my dear

_mon petit:_ This means something along the lines of "my little guy," I think.

_Puebla:_ A city in Puebla, Mexico...It's literally Puebla, Puebla in Mexico. More on its importance a little further down in the notes.

_Admitelo:_ I was trying to write "Admit it!" in Spanish but all the translations got weirder & weirder. Feel free to correct me on any of this.

_hermano:_ brother (More of why this term was used below in the notes.)

_Hasta luego.:_ Means something like "See you later."

Historical notes! (Keep in mind that I was unable to get reliable and accurate historical information, & that Wikipedia ended up being my best source, so...yeah. Feel free to correct me!)

During the colonial era, the Spanish Empire was among the biggest and strongest of them (keep in mind that the British Empire started off as a third rate empire before reaching full status after colonizing the Americas; I'm not quite sure about France or Portugal at the time, but they were pretty big empires too, with important roles in the Americas). To simplify it in Hetalia terms, Spain had _a lot_ of kids to take care of at the time. He had around 19 colonies in the Americas alone (including the ones in the Caribbean, of course). (By the way, doesn't baby!Cuba sound like one of the cutest things evah?)

The colonies are having trouble learning Spanish because they were born before the Spaniards completely began to take over, meaning they still speak their native languages at this point in time.

Himaruya has stated that Romano was an exception for Spain. He was much more strict with his other colonies (make of that what you will [you know, outright enslavement of the indigenous people, all that jazz]).

At this point in time, France still had control over Canada (or rather new France). He would later lose his colony to the British Empire in the Seven Years War (fought from the mid 1750s to the early 1760s). If you know your American (I'm referring to the entire continent here), British, or French history well (or just history in general), you should now that everything pretty much went downhill from there...

I'm not really sure about Romano at this time. I assume that by this point in time, he has grown up and moved out of Spain's home. If you have any history to share on Italy during the colonization of the Americas, please do so!

OC!Chile's shy behavior as a colony is only there to serve as a contrast for Spain between her as a colony and her in the sadly-not-too-far future.

The "Marina" girl that Mexico briefly mentions is La Malinche, who I mentioned about a chapter ago. Her nation saw her as a traitor to her own kind for selling out the Aztecs and siding with the Spaniards in their conquest. She was given the Christian name "Marina." Here, Mexico is hurt by her actions. He doesn't love her romantically, but simply as one of his own people. Her actions leave him scarred and conflicted over her to this day.

I tried to imply at some past heartbreak for France. Jeanne d'Arc died roughly a century before the European empires fully transitioned this land into their colonies. Major OOC-ness for France, huh? I just think the nations would have a sort of hedonistic streak

Puebla (the capital city of Puebla in Mexico) was the setting of the Battle of Puebla, where Mexican forces fought against the French around 1862. Mexico emerged as the unlikely victor. This is where we get Cinco de Mayo, people. In this fic, Mexico's just remembering how France tried to molest him that time (again). _Baaaad toooouuuuuch..._

Austria & Hungary were married at some point. We should all know that by now.

Australia is a former British colony, now part of the Commonwealth of Nations. And it sounds like a totally badass nation! :D

The "games" that Nicaragua briefly mentions are the Pan-American Games. They're like the Olympics, except only for the Americas & stuff. In 2011, they were held in Guadalajara, Mexico. (Can someone please explain to me why some of the teams were carrying U.S. flags? I'm not complaining or anything, I'm just confused about it. I mean, I distinctly remember the team from Mexico carrying U.S flags, which was even weirder 'cuz, I mean, they were the host country, so it would have been more than understandable to see their athletes carrying Mexican flags.)

Chile also briefly referred to Mexico as Guatemala's brother. This refers to the First Mexican Empire (that's right, world: Mexico had more than _one_ empire), formed after their own declarations of independence from Spain. This empire consisted of Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, & Costa Rica (among other territories). The latter 5 regions later declared their own independence & left the First Mexican Empire (which I don't think really lasted all that long). My messed up logic declares that these 6 countries are more like brothers through this history together. They're not on good terms right now, socially speaking. While they get along in terms of politics & such, Mexico's been getting a lot of hate from other countries (most notably his neighbors, like Guatemala and El Salvador) simply for being in such close proximity to the United States. (I think the U.S pretty much screwed things up for every other country in the continent just by being there, huh? Sorry about that...)

The Special Relationship between the U.K. (or whatever terminology you prefer to use when referring to that area; I know some people get kind of ticked off about that) & the U.S. falls under a lot of criticism, mainly over the fact that the U.S. tries to tip the scale so that it benefits the most and the fact that the U.S. keeps dragging the U.K into their problems and keep their support tends to make the U.K. a laughingstock of sorts among the European nations (an article referred to them as "America's lapdog"). This relationship has stemmed since WWII and, of course, has roots going back further than that. It's been declared many times that the Special Relationship has ended...I've only seen those from articles from the U.K., though. (tsundere much, Iggy? hurrhurr *shot*)

The "closest ally" thing? President Obama said that the U.K. was the U.S.'s closest friend and ally. Then he said that about France. There was some outrage from the British...(lol Iggy jelly? trolololol :D) Obama probably said that about a lot of other countries. I think South Korea was one of them, da ze.

...That's pretty much it for now.

Wish me luck, my friends, for I may die from the pure stress of failing during my first year in college.

Also, I hope this doesn't make me seem like too much of a creeper, but it makes me happy to see that this story gets views from other countries. It literally makes me want to cry and dance with joy.

Until next time, farewell~!


	12. An Alliance of Sorts

**Author's Note:** I'm alive! And I think I passed my finals~! :3

Sorry for the late update, you guys! I planned to have this up at midnight as a sort of Christmas present for my readers and reviewers, but my parents forced me to go with them to visit some friends and then my laptop decided to be a little bitch by messing with my files. But I'll rant about this in another chapter.

No Christmas chapter, just because for some reason I don't want this to interfere with whatever Christmas event the Hetalians are having this year...there is gonna be another Hetalia Christmas event, isn't there?

Anyways, I plan to have another chapter up by New Year's Day & if I do, then it may be a conjoined holiday chapter! (But don't expect fluffiness by then! Remember: their relationship is just getting started.)

...If you guys want a smut scene in this fic, I just have to ask: how explicit is _too_ explicit for this website? 'Cuz, I mean, this is still my first fic & I'm still working out what's allowed & what's not, & I don't want to get in trouble this soon, so...yeah.

No Spanish in this chapter, some mild language (nothing to take note of), and OOC-ness for America/Alfred, 'cuz if I'm not his creator, then obviously I can't exactly keep him in character but I'm trying my best.

On that note, I do not own any character from Hetalia nor do I own the franchise. If I did, you'd bet your ass there would be way more yaoi involved. And Mexico would have already been a canon character (and more accurately portrayed).

Speaking of Mexico...

*possible spoiler if you haven't read the Hetaween 2011 event*

You guys know how at the end of the event, there's two people who show up late to the event and it's implied that they're new characters, even though we don't get to see their faces?

Well, is it a bad thing that the fact that one of them uses the word "amigo" makes me think that the Latin Americans will be making their debut soon?

Also, is it bad that I squealed like the total fangirl that I am when I saw that one of them looked like he had long black hair in a ponytail? 'Cuz I've sort of always imagined Mexico to have long black hair that he could put up in a ponytail~!

*is totally stoked for new Hetalia comic strips*

Don't be afraid to criticize my work, sweeties~!

Also, beware of random and sudden changes of P.O.V. between America/Alfred and Mexico/Alejandro. P.O.V. changes with the breaks between passages: when America is referred to by his human name, it's supposed to be in Mexico's perspective (not that you can tell); remember that he has issues with referring to Alfred as "America" since "America" refers to the entire continent. (Also, calling him "United States" is kind of a mouthful & it's not as catchy either.)

And random dream for America in italics!

* * *

><p><em>Love is divine only and difficult always. If you think it is easy you are a fool. If you think it is natural you are blind. It is a learned application without reason or motive except that it is God.<em>

-Toni Morrison, _Paradise_

They were out there. He just knew it.

They were watching, waiting for him to mess up somehow, but he wouldn't give them that satisfaction. Instead, he pushed himself deeper into the folds of the blankets, wrapping his arms around his folded legs and huddling up as best as he could in the confined space.

They wouldn't be able to watch him for long, though. They had their own obligations to deal with in their respective homes. He could outlast them.

He could wait.

* * *

><p>America frowned as the dreaded "Game Over" flashed on the screen.<p>

"Stupid game," he huffed, throwing the controller at the game console. It missed and bounced off the carpet nearby. Maybe Tony could show him some of the cheat codes…just to give him a little boost in the game.

A flutter of paper broke the silence. America turned towards the direction of the noise. There was nothing there. It was probably just a breeze. That, or Mexico was nearby.

America shuddered. He really hoped it wasn't the latter. He hadn't seen the other at all ever since they returned from the last conference. Mexico had taken to avoiding any sort of contact with him. America would sometimes hear him bustling around somewhere on the second floor only to hear doors slamming downstairs a few moments later. It was unnerving. Who knew what the other nation was up to? He could be planning anything. _Doing_ anything. It was like Mexico was haunting the house.

_Or maybe that's what the ghosts want you to think!_ America shook his head. There were no ghosts during Christmas time. They only came out during Halloween. And after watching scary movies. And in haunted houses. And in cemeteries. And when people died. Which was all the time. Well, there were also the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future too, but America wasn't a Scrooge. Nope. Not at all.

He didn't feel comfortable in here anymore. He needed to go buy more snacks anyway, so he may as well get out of the house. America stood up and made his way towards the front door.

"Hey! I'm going to the store. You want something from there?" America called out as he snatched his keys from a hook near the door. He hoped Mexico answered; then he'd know where the other was hiding.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out. A text from an unknown number. He opened the phone and read the message.

_Cigarettes_.

Cigarettes? What the hell…?

He almost slammed his head against the wall. Of course. Leave it to Mexico to do anything to keep from having to talk to him, like it was America's fault that he had to hide.

_Maybe if I call back- NO! _America forced that train of thoughts to end. He didn't do anything wrong. Why should he have to bother trying to find Mexico? It was _his_ problem. _He_ should be the one to deal with it.

Feeling more confident on this point, America took his leave of the nation-haunted house and made his way towards the car in the driveway, refusing to acknowledge any and all thoughts related to Mexico and why he needed cigarettes and how he got America's phone number.

* * *

><p>Mexico didn't know why he'd never taken the chance to explore this house. It had some very nice hiding places. A lot of them were dark, too. He liked this one the most though. It was soft and warm, and Alfred never seemed to notice it, so that made it the perfect hiding place.<p>

He sighed in contentment and buried himself further under the blankets. Soft and warm. So comfortable...

He had all the supplies he needed to stay in here as long as he wanted. The layers and layers of blankets made for a very decent bed. He could go out and use the bathroom whenever he was sure that Alfred wasn't around. He didn't even have to put any effort into getting food for himself; the work had already been done for him. He had discovered this little secret when he'd been struggling to find a comfortable position to sleep in while inside of the confined space. He'd found a loose floorboard and, after clawing at it for a few moments, had pried it open to find a hidden stash of junk food. He never would have pegged Alfred to be a hoarder, but somehow it didn't surprise him. He was starting to run low on food, though, so he'd have to raid the kitchen eventually or hope that Alfred would suddenly decide to refill this stash and never notice him hidden there or question why these particular snacks were gone.

The cigarettes were a consolation for that. Alfred thought he was so smart by hiding a camera to catch Mexico in the act of retrieving them, but Mexico could see right through that plan. He just snuck up behind the camera and turned it off before claiming his prize. He probably should've taken the camera too, just to rub it in Alfred's face, but he had been in a hurry.

His fingers curled loosely around the carton and he smiled. He wasn't dumb enough to smoke them while he was in such a cramped place. He didn't really need them anyway. Just having the cigarettes there calmed him.

* * *

><p><em>America beamed as the other nations applauded at his accomplishments. He had singlehandedly fixed the world economy, saved the environment from global warming, and made hamburgers the national food of the earth.<em>

"_America! You're the most awesome thing in the world since before awesomeness existed!" Prussia cheered._

"_Everybody knew that already," America chuckled._

"_America, I always envied you and your handsomeness. Please let me be your servant for life!" Russia cried as he threw himself at America's feet._

"_I'll think about it," he smirked, using his foot to lightly nudge the larger man away from where he stood. _

_Russia sobbed as he was pulled away from America's awesome presence by others who desperately wanted to meet the world's hero themselves._

_A lone figure approached America from the side. America turned to see England smiling at him. He felt his breath catch in his throat._

"_America...you saved us all," England whispered as he reached up to push a lock of America's hair behind his ear. "You're the bravest man I've ever met. How can I ever repay you?"_

_America grinned as he wrapped his arms around England's waist. "I can think of a few ways," he replied smoothly._

_England gasped in surprise as America dipped him backwards and he reached up to wrap his arms around America's neck to keep from falling. He looked back up to meet America's gaze. Returning America's smile with a wolfish smirk, England began to slowly pull himself closer to the taller man._

_America leaned in closer, pausing only when he felt England's breath against his lips. England gazed back up at him, already looking unbelievably disheveled, and ran a hand up through America's hair and…_

_Tugged. _

_America squirmed as he felt a strange pressure somewhere at the top his head. Nantucket, he realized. He looked down at England, who had his trademark scowl back on his face, and gave a hesitant smile._

"_H-Hey, England. That's not something you should be doing in front of everyone, you know." _

_England's expression stayed the same, almost as if America hadn't said anything. Instead, he tugged on Nantucket again._

_America trembled and tried to twist out of England's hold. It was useless; the man had an iron grip on the lone strand of hair. "Seriously, dude. Quit it."_

_England just stared back indifferently. He pulled harshly on the lock of hair between his fingers again._

_America heard a whimper break free from his lips. "England! Stop!"_

_To his surprise, England did stop. He lowered his hand a bit, letting the pad of his pointer finger trace a line down America's forehead until it reached the space between America's eyebrows, just above the bridge of his nose. He drew his finger back a bit before tapping lightly at the spot._

_At least, America thought he would do it lightly. He could see that England wasn't using much force, but the sensation was almost like that of a knife._

_He twisted his head to the side. "Stop it! That hurts!"_

_He opened his eyes in time to see the world and the other nations fade away. This reality was gone. What was happening?_

_The sharp pain near his forehead came back with a vengeance. He felt something warm trickle down his face. Blood? America began to raise his hand up to the spot, only to feel his muscles freeze. He struggled to move his arm again. It moved sluggishly and only managed to close in a few inches of distance. The stabbing sensation began again, this time continuing in succession. America hissed as the invisible force dug into freshly uncovered skin. He bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming as he felt the phantom pain ghost upwards along his forehead-_

America let out a choked scream as another harsh tug on Nantucket pulled him out of his nightmare. His sight was blurred, and remained so for longer than normal. A strange heat pressed down against his face, making it difficult to breathe. Had the blood been real? Did it blind him?

He tentatively raised a hand up towards his face. Instead of soft skin, his hand met with feathers. Feathers?

"Agh! Damn it!" America shot up into a sitting position, forcing the bird off of his face and onto his lap. Paolo squawked angrily and jumped off of the bed. He fluffed his feathers up in a vaguely threatening motion. He just looked silly to America.

America blew lightly at a few feathers that remained stuck to his face. "What do you want?" Paolo tilted his head to the side at the sound of his voice. "If you're hungry, go bother your owner. It's not my problem." America lay back down and turned away from the bird.

A soft clucking was all the warning he had before he felt another pull on Nantucket. "Alright!" He swatted the fowl away from his head. The last thing he needed was to have a rooster get him all hot and bothered.

He rubbed his eyes to force the remnants of sleep away before turning to look at the bird that sat beside him. "What now?" he grumbled.

Paolo pecked lightly at the edge of America's long shirt as if to make sure his attention was on him. He leaped off the bed and made his way towards the door, pausing only once to look back.

So he wanted America to follow him, huh? America sighed as he stood up and followed after him. This was like something out of a bad Lassie movie.

America padded softly along the carpeted floor of the corridor, watching the small figure hop its way towards a small closet near the end of the hall. He frowned. There was smoke coming out of it.

_Cigarettes_…

America rushed forward and yanked the doors open just in time to see a shadowed limb drop a lit cigarette on the floor and disappear under the blankets.

"Oh no, you don't!" He reached into the folds of the blankets, feeling around blindly until his hand met with warm skin. He closed his hand around it and pulled. There was some struggling but America's superior strength rendered any more resistance useless. He dragged Mexico's limp form out of the closet until he was splayed out on the carpet. Mexico glared up at him.

America crossed his arms. "What's your deal, man?"

Mexico turned his head to the side. He got onto his hands and knees, and began to crawl back towards his haven.

"Hey! I asked you a question! What's your problem?"

* * *

><p>Mexico frowned. He didn't want to deal with this right now. He looked over his shoulder to meet Alfred's gaze.<p>

"…"

Alfred tapped his foot impatiently (didn't he know how much that made him look like some silly parental figure?). "Well?"

"I'm not the one with the problem," he hissed. "You are."

Alfred looked taken aback at this. "Me?" he sputtered. "How is any of this my fault?"

Mexico turned over again until he was in a sitting position, leaning back languidly on his arms. "You're the one going around kissing your boyfriend when we clearly agreed not to do that."

"That's what this is all about?" Alfred began to run his hands through his hair. He stopped only to point at Mexico. "I'm not the one who spazzed out in front of everyone at the meeting!"

"Are you saying that it's my fault? I had every right to 'spaz out'!" Upon saying this, Mexico stood up and moved directly in front of Alfred. He poked Alfred's chest. "We're married and you're going around shoving your tongue down someone else's throat! How the hell do you think that makes me look?" He didn't wait for the other to answer. "I'll tell you how it makes me look: it makes me look bad, Alfred. It makes me look like a damn fool." Another poke in the chest. "It goes against the whole point of this stupid union! _Monogamy_, Alfred. It's called _monogamy_. You should try it sometime. You should _all_ try it sometime."

* * *

><p>Mexico looked absolutely furious. He would probably attack if America said anything. However, the need to defend himself from the accusation overcame his common sense.<p>

"I didn't break the deal if that's what you're saying."

Mexico took a step forward. "Yeah. You did."

Even though America was bigger, Mexico looked much more dangerous with the shadows looming over him like that. America refused to be intimidated; he stood his ground. "No I didn't."

* * *

><p>Mexico raised his arms and made a strangling motion with his hands before letting out a frustrated sigh. "When you're married and you kiss someone who is <em>not<em> the person you're married to, that's when you're cheating on your partner. Cheating on someone is usually a pretty good reason to end a marriage or a relationship." He spoke as if he were explaining the concept to a toddler.

Alfred shook his head. "But I didn't cheat on you. You said we were keeping our marriage and our lives as nations apart." He responded in a tone that made it seem as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mexico rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's not what I meant when I said that, Alfred. I said that we were keeping politics out of this marriage, not that we're pretending that we're not married while we're at work."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"No, Alfred. It's not. We avoid talking about nation related things while we're in this sham of a relationship and we don't talk about the marriage to others because, knowing them, they might try to get involved. We do not act like this is not happening while we're at work. That means that you and I don't go around kissing other people."

Alfred stared blankly at him. A moment of silence passed between them before a look of realization set onto his face. "Oh! I get it."

"Good for you. Now we need to do some damage control." Mexico began to pace along the hall with Paolo chasing after him.

Alfred rocked back on his heels. "What damage?"

"Do you not remember the scene we made in front of everyone we work with?" Mexico stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. He watched Paolo settle down near his feet. "They're probably onto us. We need to look like a convincing couple."

Alfred shrugged. "Okay. How do we do that?"

"You know. By doing…couple stuff," Mexico motioned vaguely with his hands.

Alfred made a face. "Like kissing and stuff?"

"Yeah. Kissing would be a good place to start."

There was an awkward moment of silence as they regarded each other. Mexico didn't really want to kiss Alfred. They had kissed before, but that was sort of an "only during sex" kind of thing. Actually, even then it wasn't really kissing; it was more along the lines of biting viciously at each other's mouths.

"Should we get to it, then?"

Mexico nodded. "That would probably be a good idea." He didn't move.

* * *

><p>America shifted uncomfortably where he stood. When Mexico made no motion towards him, he shrugged and moved forward. It was just another kiss anyway.<p>

* * *

><p>Mexico squirmed when Alfred began to walk towards him. Alfred sauntered over until he stood in front of Mexico. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Mexico's stillness.<p>

_It's just a stupid kiss_, he told himself. _You've kissed a lot of other people you don't like. It's no different._ With that thought in mind, Mexico steeled himself and moved his face closer to Alfred's.

A few moments of feeling Alfred's warm breath against his face made him realize that Alfred wasn't going to complete the action.

And neither was he. Kissing Alfred when it wasn't for the sake of politics felt far too intimate. He needed passion to do things like this and Alfred sure as hell wasn't making him feel anything like that at the moment. Being in such close proximity to the other man made him feel like ther were maggots burrowing under his skin. He didn't like this.

"How about we start off with something easier like hugging?" Alfred broke the silence.

Mexico pulled his head back. "Yeah, that sounds good."

They positioned themselves in front of each other again. Arms outstretched, they moved towards each other again only to recoil the moment their chests made contact.

Mexico sighed. This wasn't going as planned.

* * *

><p>AN: One day, I'll look back on this fic and think, "_Good lord. What abomination did I unleash on the world?_" & I'll delete this fic forever. Granted, it's my first fic, so it's bound to turn out crappy.

I keep trying to make sure Mexico doesn't veer into Mary Sue/Gary Stu territory, but it's hard to do that since there's few Mary Sue Litmus tests suited for the Hetalia fandom, where the main characters are pretty much immortal and_ don't_ look their true age.

I did, however, find a fic that offered some pretty good advice on this stuff (and it's pretty funny too). It suggested that I try to make a sort of an outline of a biography for an OC. It helped a bit, I guess.

It asked for stuff like age, weight & height & stuff. You guys want to know that stuff about my OC!Mexico?

*shot*

I would just like to say that the idea of Mexico being a smoker at some point in his life sounds pretty awesome. And rather plausible for a nation. I mean, if you've lived for centuries, it'd be pretty believable for you to try smoking at some point in your life. On that topic, smoking is bad for you, m'kay. Miss Queen here does not support actual smoking.

A big thanks to all of my reviewers for continuing to have conversations with me. It keeps my spirit up, even though we don't really talk about anything important~! X3

(And to **FlyingMintBunny57**, apparently I can't PM you, so...yeah.)

More thanks to those who added me or my story to their faves or to their author/story alert!

And a round of applause for **Nolimy-kun**, who has been so unbelievably helpful in verifying information on the nations for me. You just know she has to be a really patient person to deal with all of my questions. As a reward, you can have you choice of another cookie or whatever nation you want (you can have sniper!Finland or dominatrix!Italy or matador!Spain [dat ass!] or any nation you'd like)! Hell, I'll go catch them myself! *takes out hunting equipment & ropes while sharpening a knife for no reason* Just say the word, man. XD

Historical Notes~! (Made possible thanks to Nolimy-kun; however, if you hate these long notes, lay the hate on me instead, not her. And once again, feel free to correct me on any mistakes.)

Back when the U.S. was still a relatively harmless cluster of 13 colonies (ah, those were the days, eh Iggy? Remember? Back when we weren't screwing everything up? =7= ), the British Empire followed the practice of salutary neglect, basically meaning that England wasn't very strict towards his colony when it came to external trading. He was pretty lax with that stuff, believing that it would help stimulate his colony's economy. After the French & Indian War/ the Seven Years' War, England was in debt due to having to protect his colony from being molested by France (ohonhon~!) and, as a result, became _way_ more strict on trading; as one Hetalia comic illustrated, England basically went up to America and said. "From now on, you can only trade with me!" America decided he didn't like England's sudden possessiveness & decided, "Revolution!"

Alas, for the Spanish colonies, it wasn't as easy for them. Some of my sources stated (not Nolimy-kun, so this may be inaccurate) that from the start, the Spanish colonies were only allowed to trade within their empire (basically, only with Spain & each other).

What Nolimy-kun _did_ tell me was that Spain was using the money he got from these colonies to fight against Turkey (or, rather, the Ottoman Empire) to take back South Italy.

Geez, talk about favoritism...

So, we can safely say that Romano may have grown up with the Spanish colonies (in this fan's interpretation, at least).

~End Historical Notes for this chapter [until the rest of the info I learned becomes relevant to the plot or is alluded to]~

Last but not least, I'd like to wish you all a Merry Christmas, whether you celebrate it now or later or not at all. Remember, if Hetalia has taught us one thing, it's this: it doesn't matter what pairing we ship, what country we come from, what ethnicity or race we are, what language we speak or what we look like, what religious, political, social, or economic background we come from; in the end, everyone in the world is a small part of one big happy family.

...well, more like a dysfunctional family than a happy one at the moment, given everything that's happening right now. But let's hope that one day we can reach the point where we will be one happy family. Even if it's just for one moment, it'll be a moment worth a thousand lifetimes.

And when that moment comes, we'll all be able to finally say:

Hyvää Joulua!

Merry Christmas!

Feliz Navidad!

Joyeux Noël!

Shèngdàn kuàilè!

С Рождеством!

Glædelig jul!

Z Kaliadami!

Весела Коледа!

Veselé Vánoce!

Gelukkig Kerstfeest!

Häid Jõule!

Maligayang Pasko!

Frohe Weihnachten!

Buon Natale!

Καλά Χριστούγεννα!

メリークリスマス!

Mutlu Noeller!

Boldog Karácsonyt!

Merry Nollag!

메리 크리스마스!

Priecīgus Ziemassvētkus!

Linksmų Kalėdų!

Wesołych Świąt!

God jul!

Feliz Natal!

Crăciun fericit!

З Різдвом Христовим!

Chúc Giáng Sinh Vui Vẻ!

Nadolig Llawen!

Sorry guys! Holidays make me sappy, apparently. :)

Used Google Translate for this, so I apologize for any mistakes. You guys get the message I'm trying to send, right?

Well, if I can't get a chapter up by then, Happy New Year!


	13. Holiday Mishaps

**Author's Note:** THE PASTA IS A LIIIIEEEE! D:

Nah, I'm just kidding. Go eat your pasta, you crazy kids~! =7=

Guys, I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter! I had it started after Christmas, but shit went down & I got caught up in a lot of other things.

As a token of apology, I offer you a link to this Hetalia related video on Youtube: /watch?v=wxtShBXyws8&feature=related

This video has entertained me so. Now let it entertain you! Be entertained! (And be ready to turn off the annotations at the beginning; those things are fucking annoying...)

(...will putting this link here get me arrested somehow? I mean, what with SOPA & ACTA & PIPA & I don't know what acts going around-you know what? Screw it. I'd get arrested just for having this fic here.)

As for why it took me so long to update (& feel free to skip over my excuse)...

-I had to help do more chores than usual because my mom was recovering from surgery during the first 2 weeks of January

-my dad ended up fracturing his arm just before January 6th

-I had to help my dad take down the Christmas decorations (_our_ Christmas officially ended on January 6th~! :D )

-I had to work on my financial aid for school

-I've started a new semester at college

-I re-read what I had already written for this chapter & I erased it all because I decided that I didn't like it

Since my classes have started again (& since I have to search for scholarships), I won't be updating much (as we have already seen these past few months). I tend to focus more on my art than on my writing while I'm attending classes (and the inverse is true during vacations).

I can assure you that I refuse to abandon my first fic. (However, I should warn you that I usually switch to a different fandom around this time of year, so let's hope that doesn't happen this time.)

This chapter is loosely Christmas themed and the next chapter will have a slight New Year's theme (or whatever). I mean, if Himaruya can keep the Christmas event going this long, then I sure as hell can write a New Year's themed chapter too.

On that note...

*Warning for possible spoilers*

Why did it take me this long to learn that there's a micronation in the U.S.? And it's in Nevada too! That's practically next door to me!

Isn't he cute? And to top it all off, he's kind of tsundere for Alfred! (Dere-dere mode, not tsun-tsun mode like England is.)

Speaking of England and micronations, Hutt River is pretty hot too, huh?

...Yes, I am well aware that these are fictional characters. I have never deluded myself into believing otherwise, so allow me to gush over them online.

Also...umm...what do you guys think Spain was doing under Romano's desk? *hurr hurr*

*End spoilers*

Some of the reviews I've received have made me realize that there is something that I have yet to address: my dear readers, the point of this fic is not to find out _why_ the characters are doing this (though that is a pretty big factor in the plot). It's to see them go through this journey together. This poorly paced, humorless, so-bad-it-makes-Stephanie-Meyer-look-like-Shakespeare-in-comparison-and-wow-I-can't-believe-I-actually-know-how-to-spell-her-name-without-having-to-look-it-up journey.

I do not own Hetalia or any characters in its franchise.

Warning: This chapter contains very unfunny cracky-ness, just a little bit of Spanish, some strong language, and some..._sexual content_, to be formal about it (don't get excited; it's practically nothing).

* * *

><p>If there was one thing that Mexico loved the most about the holidays, it was the chocolate.<p>

Nothing could ever bring him as much joy as the brightly colored treats did, which was why he had no qualms about stuffing as many of the sweets into his mouth as possible. (And maybe he wouldn't have to eat so many of them if people didn't insist on miniaturizing them instead of having regular sized ones!)

He licked the melted remains of the candy from the pads of his fingers before throwing the empty bag off to the side and settling back against his makeshift bed. He sighed, stretching his limbs out and letting his legs dangle from the arm of the couch. It felt strange to sleep on the couch again after spending days living inside a closet. He was starting to feel the downsides of his recent living arrangements: his stomach churned violently from having subsided purely on fatty foods for the past few days, his throat felt dry and scratchy from his recent attempt to resume smoking, and his back muscles twitched violently every time he tried to lie down and relax. The last problem had been plaguing him for some time already but either way, it still added to his growing misery at the moment.

Mexico shifted under the blankets, unsuccessful in trying to find a comfortable position to settle into. With a light grumble, he pulled the pillow out from under his head and stuffed it beneath his back. He decided that the new support for his back was the best he would be able to do for the moment and while his neck was starting to feel a bit strained from resting against the arm of the couch, it seemed like too much trouble to get another pillow when it was so very warm under the blankets and the room itself was almost unbearably chilly. Resigned to his current fate, Mexico closed his eyes and finally let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>A glow slipped past his closed eyelids, forcing him awake. Mexico raised an arm to protect his eyes from the bright light. Was it the alien again?<p>

When he moved his arm away, he caught sight of sparkles floating in the air. Definitely not the alien…or was it?

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Mexico turned his head slowly to the side to look at the speaker. The figure was surrounded by a glowing halo. Mexico narrowed his eyes, trying to make out any features on the person's face, but the light made it difficult for him to observe the other. He turned away when the radiance began to sting his eyes. After he had blinked away the annoying flashes of light beneath his eyelids, he looked back towards the form, straining to see his face. There were two dark patches floating where the figure's eyebrows should be…Were those actually his eyebrows? They looked horrific and-Oh God, it was England.

England floated closer, a strange fluttering movement from his back making the white toga-like garment shift around, and smiled down at him. "I have come to show you the mistakes of your past that haunt you."

"Oh, for God's sake." Mexico pushed his blankets off and stood up, making his way towards the bottom of the stairs. "Alfred! Your boyfriend's drunk again!"

"I am not drunk! I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!" England waved his wand around, letting more sparkles rain down.

"I'm sure you are," Mexico muttered sarcastically as he brushed at the glitter that got stuck in his hair.

"Anyway, I'm here so we can explore the mistakes of your past."

"If I didn't like them the first time, I'm not gonna enjoy them a second time," Mexico waved him off. He walked towards the front door with the other nation trailing after him. He turned the handle and held the door open. "Get out."

"Not until we've delved into your past and seen-"

"Don't say I didn't warn you! Paolo!" A strange warble rang out and a mass of dark, iridescent feathers emerged from the shadows. "_Obtiene el intruso!_" Mexico screeched, pointing at the oddly dressed nation.

"Wait a minu-_AAAAHH-!"_

(England would later swear that the rooster had growled before it jumped at him.)

* * *

><p>Mexico couldn't sleep after that strange intrusion, especially not after the realization that with the holidays just around the corner, there were bound to be hordes of drunken nations wandering around. He had put Paolo outside, just in case, and had checked to make sure that all the doors and windows were closed and locked before letting himself fall face first on the couch.<p>

He lay in that position for a good long time, trying to clear his mind and calm himself, before accepting the fact that this would in fact be yet another night where sleep would elude him.

He sighed and turned his face to the side, pulling it away from the sheets. What now? It was too late to be awake- _too early_, he amended himself. Too early for even Paolo to be awake. He would be exhausted if he didn't get some sleep now, but it wasn't like he could easily find some nighttime activity that would wear him out.

Mexico raised his head at that thought. Maybe finding such an activity wouldn't be as difficult as it sounded.

He turned over to lie on his back and pushed the waistband of his pants down low on his hips. It had been a while, but maybe a quick session of frustrated self-loving would tire him out. His hand trailed down his torso, leaving a cold, almost foreign sensation in its wake. He paused when his hand brushed at the dark patch of hair between his legs before reaching to wrap almost shyly around his member. He jolted at the contact. Mexico was loath to admit it, but he was probably more than a little rusty at this; he'd never really had trouble getting partners to join him in bed before and he had been a bit too preoccupied in the last few years to even think about any sort of sexual gratification. Still, this wasn't exactly the kind of thing that could be forgotten easily. Mexico threw an arm over his face to cover his eyes as he began to move his hand in slow, even strokes. His lips parted as he let panted softly, his skin starting to heat up-

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present!"

"_Aaaahh!_" Mexico shot up into a sitting position and pulled the sheets across his lap. "Son of a bitch! Can't a man have some privacy around here?" He felt his cheeks heat up as he turned to see Spain standing next to the couch. Spain was wearing a ridiculous-looking tomato costume that made his torso look huge and round; a nest of cherry tomatoes and their vines was woven into his rich brown hair, creating a makeshift crown on his head. As a finishing touch to the strange outfit, Spain held a wand with a large red tomato stuck on one end with a decorative green ribbon tied down just below it.

Spain beamed as he took a seat on the couch next to the flustered nation. "Aww, don't be shy, Mexico. I've walked in on you masturbating plenty of times before, remember?"

Mexico buried his face in his hands in a poor attempt to hide the redness of his cheeks. Oh God, why did these things have to happen to him?

Spain just continued to smile obliviously as he scooted closer. "…Remember when Chile walked in on you?"

"Say, Spain. How would you like to help me commit suicide?"

"Eh?"

"Just take that wand of yours and ram it into my eye socket. I think if you do it hard enough, we might be able to hit my brain."

* * *

><p>France hummed as he fluttered excitedly into the house. He was the final one for this evening, but taking on the most depressing role of the three didn't mean that he had to wear the drab, dark cloak that England had insisted that he wear. He decided to forgo that in favor of his preferred state of dress (which, this being France, naturally meant wearing only a single rose grown from his own garden).<p>

Peering around the edge of the wall, France caught sight of a form concealed by blankets on the couch. He could see a few strands of black hair sticking out from beneath the sheets. France skipped merrily towards the couch. Once he was standing above the figure, France tapped on the other's head with his wand. "_Bonjour, mon cher!_ I am the Ghost of Christmas-"

The figure threw the sheets off, leaving France staring down at the barrel of a gun and a livid nation with a crazed look in his eyes.

"_GET. OUT._"

* * *

><p>AN: You know, I'm no expert at this, but I don't think it would be very...ah..._comfortable_...for Mexico to be masturbating without any lube. (Or would it...? Nope. It wouldn't.)

Recall that I mentioned that I'm doing as much research as I can for this fic. Which is not limited to history. On that note, Miss Queen did _not_ need to know what the human urethra looks like. But the damage is done. The graphic damage. That is now on my computer's memory...-thing.

...Doesn't Spain seem like the kind of guy who'd walk in on an awkward moment like that and totally ignore the fact that he's not wanted there?

Translations:

_Obtiene el intruso!_: Get the intruder! (At least I think that's what it means.)

And I think we all have a general idea of what the French words mean, right?

I'll eventually go back to edit the other chapters. I honestly would have expected someone to complain about my poor spelling and grammar by now. I mean, English wasn't officially the first language I learned, but now I don't remember how to speak any other language _except_ English! What is wrong with me...?

I've also decided that I will occasionally share useless and not-quite-interesting facts with you guys; mostly because they are so weird/funny/horrifying to learn about, and partly because I just feel like sharing the facts with other Hetalia fans ('cuz I don't know any hardcore Hetalia fans in real life *runs away sobbing dramatically*).

Did you know...?

-Thailand is the only country that has never been colonized. (Or maybe it has. Hell, I don't even remember where I learned this! At school? On T.V.? In a book? From a friend? _Where?_)

-The U.S. has produced the more serial killers than any other country. (And that's just the convicted ones! If you want to include the unidentified ones...) England is second to the U.S. in that field. (Seems like Alfred may have inherited some bad qualities from Arthur... O_o )

-Lithuania has the highest suicide rate out of all the countries. (You know, I honestly thought that title would go to Latvia.)

-Canadians and Australians (and possibly New Zealanders) have _the most_ _fucking vicious soldiers in the world_. (I think it would be wise to not try and prove this point wrong. After all, there _must_ be a reason why these countries are able to stay out of the most heated conflicts in the world. You know, until they decide it's time for them to kick ass. Sadly, I don't think Alfred ever learned his lesson with Matthew.)

-Tomatoes originated from the Americas. (You're welcome, _Spain_.)

-The U.S. national anthem is set to the tune of a British pub song. (Damn it, I just love some of the stupid things that Alfred does.)

If you have any strange or pointless "fun facts" to share about your countries, feel free to share them. Otherwise, they might all end up being about the U.S. & I'd rather not have all the attention go to Alfred's head.

Next time on "Useless Fun Facts": which country created the condom? (I swear to God, you guys, the Hetalia characters actually debated this during one of the world meetings in the official doujinshi! It started out as an argument between England, a.k.a. Mr. Sex Ambassador, & France, the resident pervert/rapist. It was _adorable_! XD)

And now, to wrap up this chapter...

Happy [late] New Year!

Happy [late] Russian New Year/Christmas! (You know, the one with the Santa dolls that come to life. _Ded Moroz_ & stuff, right?)

Happy [late] _Dia de los Reyes Magos_! (Also known as Epiphany.)

Happy [late] Chinese New Year!

Happy [late] Single Awareness-I mean, Valentine's Day!

Also, Himaruya told the Hetalia fans that if he didn't finish the 2011 Christmas event on January 8th, China's trunks would explode the next day.

He still hasn't finished the event.

The fangirls proudly declared January 9th as Pantless China Day. And what a glorious day it was. (Happy late Pantless China Day, everyone!)

Um, if there's any other holidays that I didn't address, I'm sorry, but I hope you guys enjoyed your holidays too!

See ya next time~! 3


End file.
